LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 


Marie  B.  Wol ford 


/ 


JOHN    FISKE 


THROUGH  NATURE 
TO  GOD 


BY 


JOHN   FISKE 


Soyez  comtne  t 'oiseau  pose  pour  un  instant 

Sur  des  rameaux  tropfreles, 
Qui  sent  player  la  branche  et  qui  chante  pourtant, 

Sachant  qu'il  a  des  ailes  ! 

VICTOR  HUGO 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1899,    BY  JOHN    F1SKB 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOR; 
SANTA  BARBARA 


TO  THE  BELOVED  AND  REVERED  MEMORY 
OF  MY  FRIEND 

THOMAS    HENRY  HUXLEY 

THIS  BOOK  IS  CONSECRATED 


PREFACE 


SINGLE  purpose  runs  throughout 
this  little  book,  though  different 
aspects  of  it  are  treated  in  the 
three  several  parts.  The  first  part,  "The 
Mystery  of  Evil,"  written  soon  after  "The 
Idea  of  God,"  was  designed  to  supply  some 
considerations  which  for  the  sake  of  con- 
ciseness had  been  omitted  from  that  book. 
Its  close  kinship  with  the  second  part, 
"The  Cosmic  Roots  of  Love  and  Self- 
Sacrifice,"  will  be  at  once  apparent  to  the 
reader. 

That  second  part  is,  with  a  few  slight 
changes,  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  oration  de- 
livered by  me  at  Harvard  University,  in 
June,  1895.  Its  original  title  was  "Ethics 
in  the  Cosmic  Process,"  and  its  form  of 
statement  was  partly  determined  by  the 
fact  that  it  was  intended  as  a  reply  to 


vi  Preface 

Huxley's  famous  Romanes  lecture  deliv- 
ered at  the  University  of  Oxford  in  1893. 
Readers  of  "The  Destiny  of  Man"  will 
observe  that  I  have  here  repeated  a  portion 
of  the  argument  of  that  book.  The  detec- 
tion of  the  part  played  by  the  lengthening 
of  infancy  in  the  genesis  of  the  human  race 
is  my  own  especial  contribution  to  the  Doc- 
trine of  Evolution,  so  that  I  naturally  feel 
somewhat  uncertain  as  to  how  far  that  sub- 
ject is  generally  understood,  and  how  far  a 
brief  allusion  to  it  will  suffice.  It  therefore 
seemed  best  to  recapitulate  the  argument 
while  indicating  its  bearing  upon  the  ethics 
of  the  Cosmic  Process. 

I  can  never  cease  to  regret  that  Huxley 
should  have  passed  away  without  seeing 
my  argument  and  giving  me  the  benefit  of 
his  comments.  The  subject  is  one  of  a 
kind  which  we  loved  to  discuss  on  quiet 
Sunday  evenings  at  his  fireside  in  London, 
many  years  ago.  I  have  observed  on  Hux- 
ley's part,  not  only  in  the  Romanes  lecture, 
but  also  in  the  charming  "Prolegomena," 


Preface  mi 

written  in  1894,  a  tendency  to  use  the 
phrase  "  cosmic  process "  in  a  restricted 
sense  as  equivalent  to  "natural  selection;" 
and  doubtless  if  due  allowance  were  made 
for  that  circumstance,  the  appearance  of 
antagonism  between  us  would  be  greatly 
diminished.  In  our  many  talks,  however, 
I  always  felt  that,  along  with  abundant 
general  sympathy,  there  was  a  discernible 
difference  in  mental  attitude.  Upon  the 
proposition  that  "  the  foundation  of  moral- 
ity is  to  ...  give  up  pretending  to  believe 
that  for  which  there  is  no  evidence,"  we 
were  heartily  agreed.  But  I  often  found 
myself  more  strongly  inclined  than  my  dear 
friend  to  ask  the  Tennysonian  question  :  — 

"  Who  forged  that  other  influence, 
That  heat  of  inward  evidence, 
By  which  he  doubts  against  the  sense  ?  " 

In  the  third  part  of  the  present  little 
book,  "The  Everlasting  Reality  of  Reli- 
gion," my  aim  is  to  show  that  "that  other 
influence,"  that  inward  conviction,  the  crav- 
ing for  a  final  cause,  the  theistic  assump- 


•viii  Preface 

tion,  is  itself  one  of  the  master  facts  of  the 
universe,  and  as  much  entitled  to  respect 
as  any  fact  in  physical  nature  can  possibly 
be.  The  argument  flashed  upon  me  about 
ten  years  ago,  while  reading  Herbert  Spen- 
cer's controversy  with  Frederic  Harrison 
concerning  the  nature  and  reality  of  reli- 
gion. Because  Spencer  derived  historically 
the  greater  part  of  the  modern  belief  in  an 
Unseen  World  from  the  savage's  primeval 
world  of  dreams  and  ghosts,  some  of  his 
critics  maintained  that  logical  consistency 
required  him  to  dismiss  the  modern  belief 
as  utterly  false ;  otherwise  he  would  be 
guilty  of  seeking  to  evolve  truth  from  false- 
hood. By  no  means,  replied  Spencer : 
"Contrariwise,  the  ultimate  form  of  the 
religious  consciousness  is  the  final  devel- 
opment of  a  consciousness  which  at  the 
outset  contained  a  germ  of  truth  obscured 
by  multitudinous  errors."  This  suggestion 
has  borne  fruit  in  the  third  part  of  the 
present  volume,  where  I  have  introduced  a 
wholly  new  line  of  argument  to  show  that 


Preface  ix 

the  Doctrine  of  Evolution,  properly  under- 
stood, does  not  leave  the  scales  equally 
balanced  between  Materialism  and  Theism, 
but  irredeemably  discredits  the  former, 
while  it  places  the  latter  upon  a  firmer 
foundation  than  it  has  ever  before  occupied. 
My  reference  to  the  French  materialism 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  in  its  contrast 
with  the  theism  of  Voltaire,  is  intended  to 
point  the  stronger  contrast  between  the 
feeble  survivals  of  that  materialism  in  our 
time  and  the  unshakable  theism  which  is  in 
harmony  with  the  Doctrine  of  Evolution. 
When  some  naturalist  like  Haeckel  assures 
us  that  as  evolutionists  we  are  bound  to 
believe  that  death  ends  all,  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  hold  the  Doctrine  of  Evolution 
responsible  for  such  a  statement.  Haeck- 
el's  opinion  was  never  reached  through  a 
scientific  study  of  evolution  ;  it  is  nothing 
but  an  echo  from  the  French  speculation 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Such  a  writer 
as  La  Mettrie  proceeded  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  no  belief  concerning  anything  in 


x  Preface 

the  heavens  above,  or  the  earth  beneath, 
or  the  waters  under  the  earth,  is  worthy 
of  serious  consideration  unless  it  can  be 
demonstrated  by  the  methods  employed  in 
physical  science.  Such  a  mental  attitude 
was  natural  enough  at  a  time  when  the 
mediaeval  theory  of  the  world  was  falling 
into  discredit,  while  astronomy  and  physics 
were  winning  brilliant  victories  through  the 
use  of  new  methods.  It  was  an  attitude 
likely  to  endure  so  long  as  the  old-fashioned 
fragmentary  and  piecemeal  habits  of  study- 
ing nature  were  persisted  in ;  and  the 
change  did  not  come  until  the  latter  half 
of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  encyclopaedic  attainments  of  Alex- 
ander von  Humboldt,  for  example,  left  him, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  materialist  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  But  shortly  before 
the  death  of  that  great  German  scholar, 
there  appeared  the  English  book  which  her- 
alded a  complete  reversal  of  the  attitude  of 
science.  The  "  Principles  of  Psychology," 
published  in  1855  by  Herbert  Spencer,  was 


Preface  xi 

the  first  application  of  the  theory  of  evolu- 
tion on  a  grand  scale.  Taken  in  connection 
with  the  discoveries  of  natural  selection,  of 
spectrum  analysis,  and  of  the  mechanical 
equivalence  between  molar  and  molecular 
motions,  it  led  the  way  to  that  sublime  con- 
ception of  the  Unity  of  Nature  by  which 
the  minds  of  scientific  thinkers  are  now 
coming  to  be  dominated.  The  attitude  of 
mind  which  expressed  itself  in  a  great  ency- 
clopaedic book  without  any  pervading  prin- 
ciple of  unity,  like  Humboldt's  "  Kosmos," 
is  now  become  what  the  Germans  call  ein 
ueberwtindener  Standpunkt,  or  something 
that  we  have  passed  by  and  left  behind. 

When  we  have  once  thoroughly  grasped 
the  monotheistic  conception  of  the  universe 
as  an  organic  whole,  animated  by  the  om- 
nipresent spirit  of  God,  we  have  forever 
taken  leave  of  that  materialism  to  which 
the  universe  was  merely  an  endless  multi- 
tude of  phenomena.  We  begin  to  catch 
glimpses  of  the  meaning  and  dramatic  pur- 
pose of  things  ;  at  all  events  we  rest  as- 


xii  Preface 

sured  that  there  really  is  such  a  meaning. 
Though  the  history  of  our  lives,  and  of  all 
life  upon  our  planet,  as  written  down  by 
the  unswerving  ringer  of  Nature,  may  ex- 
hibit all  events  and  their  final  purpose  in 
unmistakable  sequence,  yet  to  our  limited 
vision  the  several  fragments  of  the  record, 
like  the  leaves  of  the  Cumaean  sibyl,  caught 
by  the  fitful  breezes  of  circumstance  and 
whirled  wantonly  hither  and  thither,  lie  in 
such  intricate  confusion  that  no  ingenuity 
can  enable  us  wholly  to  decipher  the  legend. 
But  could  we  attain  to  a  knowledge  com- 
mensurate with  the  reality  —  could  we 
penetrate  the  hidden  depths  where,  accord- 
ing to  Dante  (Paradiso,  xxxiii.  85),  the 
story  of  Nature,  no  longer  scattered  in  tru- 
ant leaves,  is  bound  with  divine  love  in  a 
mystic  volume,  we  should  find  therein  no 
traces  of  hazard  or  incongruity.  From 
man's  origin  we  gather  hints  of  his  destiny, 
and  the  study  of  evolution  leads  our  thoughts 
through  Nature  to  God. 
CAMBRIDGE,  March  2,  1899. 


CONTENTS 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  EVIL 

I.  The  Serpent's  Promise  to  the  Woman         .       ) 
II.  The  Pilgrim's  Burden    ....          8 

III.  Manicbceism  and  Calvinism        .         .         -14 

IV.  The  Dramatic  Unity  of  Nature      .         .         22 
V.  What  Conscious  Life  is  made  of         .         -27 

VI.  Without  the  Element  of  Antagonism  there 
could  be  no  Consciousness,  and  therefore 

no  World 34 

VII.  A  Word  of  Caution          .         .         .         .40 
VIII.  The  Hermit  and  the  Angel      .        .        .        43 
IX.  Man's  Rise  from  the  Innocence  of  Brute- 
hood     48 

X.  The  Relativity  of  Evil    .        ...        54 

THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE  AND  SELF- 
SACRIFICE 

I.  The  Summer  Field,  and  what  it  tells  us      .    59 
II.  Seeming  Wastefulness  of  the  Cosmic  Process    65 


xi-v  Contents 

III.  Call  ban's  Philosophy      ....         72 

IV.  Can  it  be  that  the  Cosmic  Process  has  no 

Relation  to  Moral  Ends  ?        .         .         -74 
V.  First  Stages  in  the  Genesis  of  Man         .        80 
VI.  The  Central  Fact  in  the  Genesis  of  Man     .    86 
VII.  The  Chief  Cause  of  Man's  lengthened  In- 
fancy      88 

VIII.  Some  of  its  Effects  96 

IX.  Origin  of  Moral  Ideas  and  Sentiments        ,  102 
X.   The  Cosmic  Process  exists  purely  for  the 

Sake  of  Moral  Ends  .        .        .         .       /op 

XI.  M aternity  and  the  Evolution  of  Altruism  .  nj 

XII.  The  Omnipresent  Ethical  Trend      .        .       127 

THE  EVERLASTING  REALITY  OF  RELIGION 
I.  "  Deo  er exit  Voltaire"      .        .        .        •  '33 
II.  The  Reign  of  Law,  and  the  Greek  Idea  of 

God  .         .         .         .         .         .         .       747 

III.  Weakness  of  Materialism          .         .         .  /  52 

IV.  Religion's  First  Postulate :  the  Quasi-Hu- 

man God  ......       16) 

V.  Religion's  Second  Postulate :   the  undying 

Human  Soul    ......   168 

VI.  Religion's  Third  Postulate :  the  Ethical  Sig- 
nificance of  the  Unseen  World   .        .       777 
VII.  Is  the  Substance  of  Religion  a  Phantom,  or 

an  Eternal  Reality  ?  .        .        •  174 


Contents  xv 

VIII.  The  Fundamental  Aspect  of  Life    .         .       777 
IX.  How  the  Evolution  of  Senses  expands  the 

World 182 

X.  Nature's  Eternal  Lesson  is  the  Everlasting 

Reality  of  Religion     ,        .        .        .186 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   EVIL 


I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else.  I  form  the  light, 
and  create  darkness ;  I  make  peace,  and  create  evil.  I  the 
Lord  do  all  these  things.  —  ISAIAH,  xlv.  6,  7. 

Did  not  our  God  bring  all  this  evil  upon  us  ?  —  NEHEMIAH, 
xiii.  1 8. 

OVK  eoiKt  &'  r)  </>vVw  e»rei<7-o5i<oSj(5  o5(ra  tx  riav  <j>a.wofi.ei><av,  aioTrep 

d  rpayuSia.  —  ARISTOTLE,  Melaphysica,  xiii.  3. 


I 

The  Serpent's  Promise  to  the  Woman 

"  Your  eyes  shall  be  opened,  and  ye  shall  be  as  gods,  know- 
ing good  and  evil."  Genesis  iii.  5. 


HE  legend  in  which  the  serpent  is 
represented  as  giving  this  counsel 
to  the  mother  of  mankind  occurs 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Pentateuch  in  the 
form  which  that  collection  of  writings  as- 
sumed after  the  return  of  the  Jews  from 
the  captivity  at  Babylon,  and  there  is  good 
reason  for  believing  that  it  was  first  placed 
there  at  that  time.  Allusions  to  Eden  in 
the  Old  Testament  literature  are  extremely 
scarce,1  and  the  story  of  Eve's  temptation 
first  assumes  prominence  in  the  writings 
of  St.  Paul.  The  marks  of  Zoroastrian 
thought  in  it  have  often  been  pointed  out. 
This  garden  of  Eden  is  a  true  Persian  para- 

1  Isaiah  li.  3  ;  Joel  ii.  3  ;  Ezekiel  xxviii.  13,  xxxi.  8,  9. 


4  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

disc,  situated  somewhere  in  that  remote 
wonderland  of  Aryana  Vaejo  to  which  all 
Iranian  tradition  is  so  fond  of  pointing 
back.  The  wily  serpent  is  a  genuine  Par- 
see  serpent,  and  the  spirit  which  animates 
him  is  that  of  the  malicious  and  tricksome 
Ahriman,  who  takes  delight  in  going  about 
after  the  good  creator  Ormuzd  and  spoiling 
his  handiwork.  He  is  not  yet  identified 
with  the  terrible  Satan,  the  accusing  angel 
who  finds  out  men's  evil  thoughts  and  deeds. 
He  is  simply  a  mischief-maker,  and  the 
punishment  meted  out  to  him  for  his  mis- 
chief reminds  one  of  many  a  curious  pas- 
sage in  the  beast  epos  of  primitive  peoples. 
As  in  the  stories  which  tell  why  the  mole 
is  blind  or  why  the  fox  has  a  bushy  tail,  the 
serpent's  conduct  is  made  to  account  for 
some  of  his  peculiar  attributes.  As  a  pun- 
ishment he  is  made  to  crawl  upon  his  belly, 
and  be  forever  an  object  of  especial  dread 
and  loathing  to  all  the  children  of  Eve. 

What,  then,  is  the  crime  for  which  the 
serpent  Ahriman  thus  makes  bitter  expia- 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  5 

tion  ?  In  what  way  has  he  spoiled  Or- 
muzd's  last  and  most  wonderful  creation  ? 
He  has  introduced  the  sense  of  sin :  the 
man  and  the  woman  are  afraid,  and  hide 
themselves  from  their  Lord  whom  they 
have  offended.  Yet  he  has  been  not  alto- 
gether a  deceiving  serpent.  In  one  respect 
he  had  spoken  profound  truth.  The  man 
and  the  woman  have  become  as  gods.  In 
the  Hebrew  story  Jehovah  says,  "  Behold 
the  man  is  become  as  one  of  us ;  "  that  is 
to  say,  one  of  the  Elohim  or  heavenly  host, 
who  know  the  good  and  the  evil.  Man  has 
apparently  become  a  creature  against  whom 
precautions  need  to  be  taken.  It  is  hinted 
that  by  eating  of  the  other  tree  and  acquir- 
ing immortal  life  he  would  achieve  some 
result  not  in  accordance  with  Jehovah's 
will,  yet  which  it  would  then  be  too  late  to 
prevent.  Accordingly,  any  such  proceed- 
ings are  forestalled  by  driving  the  man  and 
woman  from  the  garden,  and  placing  senti- 
nels there  with  a  fiery  sword  which  turns 
hither  and  thither  to  warn  off  all  who  would 


6  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

tread  the  path  that  leads  to  the  tree  of  life. 
The  anthropomorphism  of  the  story  is  as 
vivid  as  in  those  Homeric  scenes  in  which 
gods  and  men  contend  with  one  another  in 
battle.  It  is  plainly  indicated  that  Jeho- 
vah's wrath  is  kindled  at  man's  presump- 
tion in  meddling  with  what  belongs  only  to 
the  Elohim  ;  man  is  punished  for  his  arro- 
gance in  the  same  spirit  as  when,  later  on, 
he  gives  his  daughters  in  marriage  to  the 
sons  of  the  Elohim  and  brings  on  a  deluge, 
or  when  he  strives  to  build  a  tower  that 
will  reach  to  heaven  and  is  visited  with  a 
confusion  of  tongues.  So  here  in  Eden  he 
has  come  to  know  too  much,  and  Ahriman's 
heinous  crime  has  consisted  in  helping  him 
to  this  interdicted  knowledge. 

The  serpent's  promise  to  the  woman  was 
worthy  of  the  wisest  and  most  astute  of 
animals.  But  with  yet  greater  subtlety  he 
might  have  declared,  Except  ye  acquire 
the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  ye  cannot 
come  to  be  as  gods ;  divine  life  can  never 
be  yours.  Throughout  the  Christian  world 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  7 

this  legend  of  the  lost  paradise  has  figured 
as  the  story  of  the  Fall  of  Man ;  and  nat- 
urally, because  of  the  theological  use  of  it 
made  by  St.  Paul,  who  first  lifted  the  story 
into  prominence  in  illustrating  his  theory 
of  Christ  as  the  second  Adam  :  since  by 
man  came  death  into  the  world,  by  man 
came  also  the  resurrection  from  death  and 
from  sin.  That  there  is  truth  of  the  most 
vital  sort  in  the  Pauline  theory  is  unde- 
niable ;  but  there  are  many  things  that  will 
bear  looking  at  from  opposite  points  of 
view,  for  aspects  of  truth  are  often  to  be 
found  on  both  sides  of  the  shield,  and  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  we  may  regard  the  loss 
of  paradise  as  in  itself  the  beginning  of  the 
Rise  of  Man.  For  this,  indeed,  we  have 
already  found  some  justification  in  the 
legend  itself.  It  is  in  no  spirit  of  paradox 
that  I  make  this  suggestion.  The  more  pa- 
tiently one  scrutinizes  the  processes  whereby 
things  have  come  to  be  what  they  are,  the 
more  deeply  is  one  impressed  with  its  pro- 
found significance. 


II 


The  Pilgrim's  Burden 

UT  before  I  can  properly  elucidate 
this  view,  and  make  clear  what  is 
meant  by  connecting  the  loss  of 
innocence  with  the  beginning  of  the  Rise  of 
Man,  it  is  necessary  to  bestow  a  few  words 
upon  a  well-worn  theme,  and  recall  to  mind 
the  helpless  and  hopeless  bewilderment 
into  which  all  theologies  and  all  philoso- 
phies have  been  thrown  by  the  problem  of 
the  existence  of  evil.  From  the  ancient 
Greek  and  Hebrew  thinkers  who  were  sad- 
dened by  the  spectacle  of  wickedness  inso- 
lent and  unpunished,  down  to  the  aged 
Voltaire  and  the  youthful  Goethe  who  felt 
their  theories  of  God's  justice  quite  baffled 
by  the  Lisbon  earthquake,  or  down  to  the 
atheistic  pessimist  of  our  own  time  who 
asserts  that  the  Power  which  sustains  the 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  9 

world  is  -but  a  blind  and  terrible  force  with- 
out concern  for  man's  welfare  of  body  or 
of  soul,  —  from  first  to  last  the  history  of 
philosophy  teems  with  the  mournful  in- 
stances of  this  discouragement.  In  that 
tale  of  War  and  Peace  wherein  the  fervid 
genius  of  Tolstoi  has  depicted  scenes  and 
characters  of  modern  life  with  truthful 
grandeur  like  that  of  the  ancient  epic 
poems,  when  our  friend,  the  genial  and 
thoughtful  hero  of  the  story,  stands  in  the 
public  square  at  Moscow,  uncertain  of  his 
fate,  while  the  kindly  bright-faced  peasant 
and  the  eager  pale  young  mechanic  are  shot 
dead  by  his  side,  and  all  for  a  silly  sus- 
picion on  the  part  of  Napoleon's  soldiery ; 
as  he  stands  and  sees  the  bodies,  still  warm 
and  quivering,  tossed  into  a  trench  and 
loose  earth  hastily  shovelled  over  them,  his 
manly  heart  surges  in  rebellion  against  a 
world  in  which  such  things  can  be,  and  a 
voice  within  him  cries  out,  —  not  in  the 
mood  in  which  the  fool  crieth,  but  with  the 
anguish  of  a  tender  soul  wrung  by  the  sight 


io  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

of  stupendous  iniquity,  —  "  There  is  no 
God  !  "  It  is  but  the  utterance  of  an  old- 
world  feeling,  natural  enough  to  hard- 
pressed  and  sorely  tried  humanity  in  those 
moments  that  have  come  to  it  only  too 
often,  when  triumphant  wrong  is  dreadfully 
real  and  close  at  hand,  while  anything  like 
compensation  seems  shadowy  and  doubtful 
and  far  away. 

It  is  this  feeling  that  has  created  the 
belief  in  a  devil,  an  adversary  to  the  good 
God,  an  adversary  hard  to  conquer  or  baffle. 
The  feeling  underlies  every  theological 
creed,  and  in  every  system  of  philosophy 
we  find  it  lurking  somewhere.  In  these 
dark  regions  of  thought,  which  science  has 
such  scanty  means  for  exploring,  the  state- 
ments which  make  up  a  creed  are  apt  to 
be  the  outgrowth  of  such  an  all-pervading 
sentiment,  while  their  form  will  be  found 
to  vary  with  the  knowledge  of  nature  — 
meagre  enough  at  all  times,  and  even  in 
our  boasted  time  —  which  happens  to  char- 
acterize the  age  in  which  they  are  made. 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  1 1 

Hence,  well-nigh  universally  has  philosophy 
proceeded  upon  the  assumption,  whether 
tacit  or  avowed,  that  pain  and  wrong  are 
things  hard  to  be  reconciled  with  the  theory 
that  the  world  is  created  and  ruled  by  a 
Being  at  once  all-powerful  and  alkbenevo- 
lent.  Why  does  such  a  Being  permit  the 
misery  that  we  behold  encompassing  us  on 
every  side  ?  When  we  would  fain  believe 
that  God  is  love  indeed,  and  love  creation's 
final  law,  how  comes  it  that  nature,  red  in 
tooth  and  claw  with  ravine,  shrieks  against 
our  creed  ?  If  this  question  could  be  fairly 
answered,  does  it  not  seem  as  if  the  burden 
of  life,  which  so  often  seems  intolerable, 
would  forthwith  slip  from  our  shoulders, 
and  leave  us,  like  Bunyan's  pilgrim,  free 
and  bold  and  light-hearted  to  contend 
against  all  the  ills  of  the  world  ? 

Ever  since  human  intelligence  became 
enlightened  enough  to  grope  for  a  meaning 
and  purpose  in  human  life,  this  problem  of 
the  existence  of  evil  has  been  the  burden 
of  man.  In  the  effort  to  throw  it  off,  lead- 


12  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

ers  of  thought  have  had  recourse  to  almost 
every  imaginable  device.  It  has  usually 
been  found  necessary  to  represent  the  Cre- 
ator as  finite  either  in  power  or  in  good- 
ness, although  the  limitation  is  seldom 
avowed,  except  by  writers  who  have  a  lean- 
ing toward  atheism  and  take  a  grim  plea- 
sure in  pointing  out  flaws  in  the  constitu- 
tion of  things.  Among  modern  writers  the 
most  conspicuous  instance  of  this  temper 
is  afforded  by  that  much  too  positive  phi- 
losopher Auguste  Comte,  who  would  fain 
have  tipped  the  earth's  axis  at  a  different 
angle  and  altered  the  arrangements  of  na- 
ture in  many  fanciful  ways.  He  was  like 
Alphonso,  the  learned  king  of  Castile,  who 
regretted  that  he  had  not  been  present 
when  the  world  was  created, — he  could 
have  given  such  excellent  advice ! 

In  a  very  different  mood  the  great  Leib- 
nitz, in  his  famous  theory  of  optimism, 
argued  that  a  perfect  world  is  in  the  nature 
of  things  impossible,  but  that  the  world  in 
which  we  live  is  the  best  of  possible  worlds. 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  13 

The  limitation  of  the  Creator's  power  is 
made  somewhat  more  explicitly  by  Plato, 
who  regarded  the  world  as  the  imperfect 
realization  of  a  Divine  Idea  that  in  itself  is 
perfect.  It  is  owing  to  the  intractableness 
and  vileness  of  matter  that  the  Divine  Idea 
finds  itself  so  imperfectly  realized.  Thus 
the  Creator's  power  is  limited  by  the  nature 
of  the  material  out  of  which  he  makes  the 
world.  In  other  words,  the  world  in  which 
we  live  is  the  best  the  Creator  could  make 
out  of  the  wretched  material  at  his  disposal. 
This  Platonic  view  is  closely  akin  to  that 
of  Leibnitz,  but  is  expressed  in  such  wise 
as  to  lend  itself  more  readily  to  myth-mak- 
ing. Matter  is  not  only  considered  as  what 
Dr.  Martineau  would  call  a  "datum  objec- 
tive to  God,"  but  it  is  endowed  with  a  dia- 
bolical character  of  its  own. 


Ill 

Manichceism  and  Calvinism 

T  is  but  a  step  from  this  to  the  com- 
plicated personifications  of  Gnosti- 
cism, with  its  Demiurgus,  or  in- 
ferior spirit  that  created  the  world.  By 
some  of  the  Gnostics  the  Creator  was  held 
to  be  merely  an  inferior  emanation  from 
God,  a  notion  which  had  a  powerful  indi- 
rect effect  upon  the  shaping  of  Christian 
doctrine  in  the  second  and  third  centuries 
of  our  era.  A  similar  thought  appears  in 
the  mournful  question  asked  by  Tennyson's 
Arthur  :  — 

"  O  me  !  for  why  is  all  around  us  here 
As  if  some  lesser  god  had  made  the  world 
And  had  not  force  to  shape  it  as  he  would?  " 

But  some  Gnostics  went  so  far  as  to  hold 
that  the  world  was  originally  created  by  the 
Devil,  and  is  to  be  gradually  purified  and 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  75 

redeemed  by  the  beneficent  power  of  God 
as  manifested  through  Jesus  Christ.  This 
notion  is  just  the  opposite  to  that  of  the 
Vendidad,  which  represents  the  world  as 
coming  into  existence  pure  and  perfect, 
only  to  be  forthwith  defiled  by  the  trail  of 
the  serpent  Ahriman.  In  both  these  oppos- 
ing theories  the  divine  power  is  distinctly 
and  avowedly  curtailed  by  the  introduction 
of  a  rival  power  that  is  diabolical ;  upon 
this  point  Parsee  and  Gnostic  are  agreed. 
Distinct  sources  are  postulated  for  the  evil 
and  the  good.  The  one  may  be  regarded 
as  infinite  in  goodness,  the  other  as  infi- 
nite in  badness,  and  the  world  in  which  we 
live  is  a  product  of  the  everlasting  conflict 
between  the  two.  This  has  been  the  fun- 
damental idea  in  all  Manichaean  systems, 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  it  has  always 
exerted  a  mighty  influence  upon  Christian 
theology.  The  Christian  conception  of  the 
Devil,  as  regards  its  deeper  ethical  aspect, 
has  owed  much  to  the  Parsee  conception  of 
Ahriman.  It  can  hardly  be  said,  however, 


1 6  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

that  there  has  been  any  coherent,  closely 
reasoned,  and  generally  accepted  Christian 
theory  of  the  subject.  The  notions  just 
mentioned  are  in  themselves  too  shadowy 
and  vague,  they  bear  too  plainly  the  marks 
of  their  mythologic  pedigree,  to  admit  of 
being  worked  into  such  a  coherent  and 
closely  reasoned  theory.  Christian  thought 
has  simply  played  fast  and  loose  with  these 
conceptions,  speaking  in  one  breath  of  di- 
vine omnipotence,  and  in  the  next  alluding 
to  the  conflict  between  good  and  evil  in 
language  fraught  with  Manichaeism. 

In  recent  times  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill 
has  shown  a  marked  preference  for  the 
Manichaean  view,  and  has  stated  it  with 
clearness  and  consistency,  because  he  is  not 
hampered  by  the  feeling  that  he  ought  to 
reach  one  conclusion  rather  than  another. 
Mr.  Mill  does  not  urge  his  view  upon  the 
reader,  nor  even  defend  it  as  his  own  view, 
but  simply  suggests  it  as  perhaps  the  view 
which  is  for  the  theist  most  free  from  diffi- 
culties and  contradictions.  Mr.  Mill  does 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  17 

not,  like  the  Manichaeans,  imagine  a  per- 
sonified principle  of  evil ;  nor  does  he,  like 
Plato,  entertain  a  horror  of  what  is  some- 
times, with  amusing  vehemence,  stigma- 
tized as  "  brute  matter."  He  does  not  un- 
dertake to  suggest  how  or  why  the  divine 
power  is  limited ;  but  he  distinctly  prefers 
the  alternative  which  sacrifices  the  attribute 
of  omnipotence  in  order  to  preserve  in  our 
conception  of  Deity  the  attribute  of  good- 
ness. According  to  Mr.  Mill,  we  may  re- 
gard the  all-wise  and  holy  Deity  as  a  crea- 
tive energy  that  is  perpetually  at  work  in 
eliminating  evil  from  the  universe.  His 
wisdom  is  perfect,  his  goodness  is  infinite, 
but  his  power  is  limited  by  some  inexplica- 
ble viciousness  in  the  original  constitution 
of  things  which  it  must  require  a  long  suc- 
cession of  ages  to  overcome.  In  such  a 
view  Mr.  Mill  sees  much  that  is  ennobling. 
The  humblest  human  being  who  resists  an 
impulse  to  sin,  or  helps  in  the  slightest 
degree  to  leave  the  world  better  than  he 
found  it,  may  actually  be  regarded  as  a 


1 8  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

participator  in  the  creative  work  of  God ; 
and  thus  each  act  of  human  life  acquires  a 
solemn  significance  that  is  almost  over- 
whelming to  contemplate. 

These  suggestions  of  Mr.  Mill  are  ex- 
tremely interesting,  because  he  was  the  last 
great  modern  thinker  whose  early  training 
was  not  influenced  by  that  prodigious  ex- 
pansion of  scientific  knowledge  which,  since 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has 
taken  shape  in  the  doctrine  of  evolution. 
This  movement  began  early  enough  to  de- 
termine the  intellectual  careers  of  eminent 
thinkers  born  between  1820  and  1830,  such 
as  Spencer  and  Huxley.  Mr.  Mill  was  a 
dozen  years  too  old  for  this.  He  was  born 
at  nearly  the  same  time  as  Mr.  Darwin,  but 
his  mental  habits  were  formed  too  soon  for 
him  to  profit  fully  by  the  new  movement  of 
thought ;  and  although  his  attitude  toward 
the  new  ideas  was  hospitable,  they  never 
fructified  in  his  mind.  While  his  thinking 
has  been  of  great  value  to  the  world,  much 
of  it  belongs  to  an  era  which  we  have  now 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  19 

left  far  behind.  This  is  illustrated  in  the 
degree  to  which  he  was  influenced  by  the 
speculations  of  Auguste  Comte.  Probably 
no  two  leaders  of  thought,  whose  dates  of 
birth  were  scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  century 
apart,  were  ever  separated  by  such  a  stu- 
pendous gulf  as  that  which  intervenes  be- 
tween Auguste  Comte  and  Herbert  Spen- 
cer, and  this  fact  may  serve  as  an  index  to 
the  rapidity  of  movement  which  has  char- 
acterized the  nineteenth  century.  Another 
illustration  of  the  old-fashioned  character 
of  Mill's  philosophy  is  to  be  seen  in  his  use 
of  Paley's  argument  from  design  in  support 
of  the  belief  in  a  beneficent  Creator.  Mill 
adopted  this  argument,  and,  as  a  professed 
free-thinker,  carried  it  to  the  logical  con- 
clusion from  which  Paley,  as  a  churchman, 
could  not  but  shrink.  This  was  the  con- 
clusion which  I  •  have  already  mentioned, 
that  God's  creative  power  has  been  limited 
by  some  inexplicable  viciousness  in  the 
original  constitution  of  things. 

I  feel  as  if  one  could  not  be  too  grateful 


2O  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

to  Mr.  Mill  for  having  so  neatly  and  sharply 
stated,  in  modern  language  and  with  mod- 
ern illustrations,  this  old  conclusion,  which 
after  all  is  substantially  that  of  Plato  and 
the  Gnostics.  For  the  shock  which  such  a 
clear,  bold  statement  gives  to  our  religious 
feelings  is  no  greater  than  the  shock  with 
which  it  strikes  counter  to  our  modern  sci- 
entific philosophy.  Suppose  we  could  bring 
back  to  earth  a  Calvinist  of  the  seventeenth 
century  and  question  him.  He  might  well 
say  that  the  God  which  Mr.  Mill  offers  us, 
shorn  of  the  attribute  of  omnipotence,  is  no 
God  at  all.  He  would  say  with  the  Hebrew 
prophet,  that  God  has  created  the  evil  along 
with  the  good,  and  that  he  has  done  so  for 
a  purpose  which  human  reason,  could  it 
once  comprehend  all  the  conditions  of  the 
case,  would  most  surely  approve  as  infi- 
nitely wise  and  holy.  Our  Calvinist  would 
ask  who  is  responsible  for  the  original  con- 
stitution of  things  if  not  the  Creator  him- 
self, and  in  supposing  anything  essentially 
vicious  in  that  constitution,  have  not  Plato 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  21 

and  the  Gnostics  and  the  Manichaeans  and 
Mr.  Mill  simply  taken  counsel  of  their  igno- 
rance ?  Nay,  more,  the  Calvinist  would 
declare  that  if  we  really  understood  the 
universe  of  which  humanity  is  a  part,  we 
should  find  scientific  justification  for  that 
supreme  and  victorious  faith  which  cries, 
"Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
him  !  "  The  man  who  has  acquired  such 
faith  as  this  is  the  true  freeman  of  the  uni- 
verse, clad  in  stoutest  coat  of  mail  against 
disaster  and  sophistry,  —  the  man  whom 
nothing  can  enslave,  and  whose  guerdon  is 
the  serene  happiness  that  can  never  be 
taken  away. 


IV 


The  Dramatic  Unity  of  Nature 

OW  in  these  strong  assertions  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  Calvinist  is 
much  more  nearly  in  accord  with 
our  modern  knowledge  than  are  Plato  and 
Mill.  It  is  not  wise  to  hazard  statements 
as  to  what  the  future  may  bring  forth,  but 
I  do  not  see  how  the  dualism  implied  in  all 
these  attempts  to  refer  good  and  evil  to  dif- 
ferent creative  sources  can  ever  be  seriously 
maintained  again.  The  advance  of  modern 
science  carries  us  irresistibly  to  what  some 
German  philosophers  call  monism,  but  I 
prefer  to  call  it  monotheism.  In  getting 
rid  of  the  Devil  and  regarding  the  universe 
as  the  multiform  manifestation  of  a  single 
all-pervading  Deity,  we  become  for  the  first 
time  pure  and  uncompromising  monotheists, 
—  believers  in  the  ever-living,  unchange- 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  2) 

able,  and  all- wise  Heavenly  Father,  in  whom 
we  may  declare  our  trust  without  the  faint- 
est trace  of  mental  reservation. 

If  we  can  truly  take  such  a  position,  and 
hold  it  rationally,  it  is  the  modern  science 
so  apt  to  be  decried  by  the  bats  and  owls  of 
orthodoxy  that  justifies  us  in  doing  so.  For 
what  is  the  philosophic  purport  of  these 
beautiful  and  sublime  discoveries  with  which 
the  keen  insight  and  patient  diligence  of 
modern  students  of  science  are  beginning 
to  be  rewarded  ?  What  is  the  lesson  that 
is  taught  alike  by  the  correlation  of  forces, 
by  spectrum  analysis,  by  the  revelations  of 
chemistry  as  to  the  subtle  behaviour  of  mole- 
cules inaccessible  to  the  eye  of  sense,  by 
the  astronomy  that  is  beginning  to  sketch 
the  physical  history  of  countless  suns  in  the 
firmament,  by  the  palaeontology  which  is 
slowly  unravelling  the  wonders  of  past  life 
upon  the  earth  through  millions  of  ages  ? 
What  is  the  grand  lesson  that  is  taught  by 
all  this  ?  It  is  the  lesson  of  the  unity  of 
nature.  To  learn  it  rightly  is  to  learn  that 


24  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

all  the  things  that  we  can  see  and  know, 
in  the  course  of  our  life  in  this  world,  are 
so  intimately  woven  together  that  nothing 
could  be  left  out  without  reducing  the  whole 
marvellous  scheme  to  chaos.  Whatever  else 
may  be  true,  the  conviction  is  brought  home 
to  us  that  in  all  this  endless  multifarious- 
ness  there  is  one  single  principle  at  work, 
that  all  is  tending  toward  an  end  that  was 
involved  from  the  very  beginning,  if  one 
can  speak  of  beginnings  and  ends  where 
the  process  is  eternal.  The  whole  universe 
is  animated  by  a  single  principle  of  life,  and 
whatever  we  see  in  it,  whether  to  our  half- 
trained  understanding  and  narrow  expe- 
rience it  may  seem  to  be  good  or  bad,  is 
an  indispensable  part  of  the  stupendous 
scheme.  As  Aristotle  said,  so  long  ago, 
in  one  of  those  characteristic  flashes  of  in- 
sight into  the  heart  of  things  in  which  no 
one  has  ever  excelled  him,  in  nature  there  is 
nothing  that  is  out  of  place  or  interpolated, 
as  in  an  ill-constructed  drama. 

To-day  we  can  begin  to  realize  how  much 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  25 

was  implied  in  this  prophetic  hint  of  Aris- 
totle's, for  we  are  forced  to  admit  that  what- 
ever may  be  the  'function  of  evil  in  this 
world,  it  is  unquestionably  an  indispensable 
function,  and  not  something  interpolated 
from  without.  Whatever  exists  is  part  of 
the  dramatic  whole,  and  this  can  quickly  be 
proved.  The  goodness  in  the  world  —  all 
that  we  love  and  praise  and  emulate  —  we 
are  ready  enough  to  admit  into  our  scheme 
of  things,  and  to  rest  upon  it  our  belief  in 
God.  The  misery,  the  pain,  the  wickedness, 
we  would  fain  leave  out.  But  if  there  were 
no  such  thing  as  evil,  how  could  there  be 
such  a  thing  as  goodness  ?  Or  to  put  it 
somewhat  differently,  if  we  had  never 
known  anything  but  goodness,  how  could 
we  ever  distinguish  it  from  evil  ?  How 
could  we  recognize  it  as  good  ?  How  would 
its  quality  of  goodness  in  any  wise  interest 
or  concern  us  ?  This  question  goes  down 
to  the  bottom  of  things,  for  it  appeals  to 
the  fundamental  conditions  according  to 
which  conscious  intelligence  exists  at  all. 


26  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

Its  answer  will  therefore  be  likely  to  help 
us.  It  will  not  enable  us.  to  solve  the  pro- 
blem of  evil,  enshrouded  as  it  is  in  a  mystery 
impenetrable  by  finite  intelligence,  but  it 
will  help  us  to  state  the  problem  correctly  ; 
and  surely  this  is  no  small  help.  In  the 
mere  work  of  purifying  our  intellectual  vis- 
ion there  is  that  which  heals  and  soothes 
us.  To  learn  to  see  things  without  distor- 
tion is  to  prepare  one's  self  for  taking  the 
world  in  the  right  mood,  and  in  this  we  find 
strength  and  consolation. 


What  Conscious  Life  is  made  of 


O  return  to  our  question,  how  could 
we  have  good  without  evil,  we  must 
pause  for  a  moment  and  inquire 
into  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind. 
What  we  call  the  soul,  the  mind,  the  con- 
scious self,  is  something  strange  and  won- 
derful. In  our  ordinary  efforts  to  conceive 
it,  invisible  and  impalpable  as  it  is,  we  are 
apt  to  try  so  strenuously  to  divorce  it  from 
the  notion  of  substance  that  it  seems  ethe- 
real, unreal,  ghostlike.  Yet  of  all  realities 
the  soul  is  the  most  solid,  sound,  and  un- 
deniable. Thoughts  and  feelings  are  the 
fundamental  facts  from  which  there  is  no 
escaping.  Our  whole  universe,  from  the 
sands  on  the  seashore  to  the  flaming  suns 
that  throng  the  Milky  Way,  is  built  up  of 
sights  and  sounds,  of  tastes  and  odours,  of 


28  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

pleasures  and  pains,  of  sensations  of  mo- 
tion and  resistance  either  felt  directly  or 
inferred.  This  is  no  ghostly  universe,  but 
all  intensely  real  as  it  exists  in  that  in- 
tensest  of  realities,  the  human  soul !  Con- 
sciousness, the  soul's  fundamental  fact,  is 
the  most  fundamental  of  facts.  But  a 
truly  marvellous  affair  is  consciousness ! 
The  most  general  truth  that  we  can  assert 
with  regard  to  it  is  this,  that  it  exists  only 
by  virtue  of  incessant  change.  A  state  of 
consciousness  that  should  continue  through 
an  appreciable  interval  of  time  without  un- 
dergoing change  would  not  be  a  state  of 
consciousness.  It  would  be  unconscious- 
ness. 

This  perpetual  change,  then,  is  what 
makes  conscious  life.  It  is  only  by  virtue 
of  this  endless  procession  of  fleeting  phases 
of  consciousness  that  the  human  soul  ex- 
ists at  all.  It  is  thus  that  we  are  made. 
Why  we  should  have  been  made  thus  is 
a  question  aiming  so  far  beyond  our  ken 
that  it  is  idle  to  ask  it.  We  might  as  well 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  29 

inquire  whether  Infinite  Power  could  have 
made  twice  two  equal  five.  We  must  rest 
content  with  knowing  that  it  is  thus  we 
were  created ;  it  is  thus  that  the  human 
soul  exists.  Just  as  dynamic  astronomy 
rests  upon  the  law  of  gravitation,  just  as 
physics  is  based  upon  the  properties  of 
waves,  so  the  modern  science  of  mind 
has  been  built  upon  the  fundamental 
truth  that  consciousness  exists  only  by 
virtue  of  unceasing  change.  Our  con- 
scious life  is  a  stream  of  varying  psy- 
chical states  which  quickly  follow  one  an- 
other in  a  perpetual  shimmer,  with  never 
an  instant  of  rest.  The  elementary  psy- 
chical states,  indeed,  lie  below  conscious- 
ness, or,  as  we  say,  they  are  sub-conscious. 
We  may  call  these  primitive  pulsations  the 
psychical  molecules  out  of  which  are  com- 
pounded the  feelings  and  thoughts  that 
well  up  into  the  full  stream  of  conscious- 
ness. Just  as  in  chemistry  we  explain  the 
qualitative  differences  among  things  as  due 
to  diversities  of  arrangement  among  com- 


5o  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

pounded  molecules  and  atoms,  so  in  psy- 
chology we  have  come  to  see  that  thoughts 
and  feelings  in  all  their  endless  variety  are 
diversely  compounded  of  sub-conscious 
psychical  molecules. 

Musical  sounds  furnish  us  with  a  simple 
and  familiar  illustration  of  this.  When  the 
sounds  of  taps  or  blows  impinge  upon  the 
ear  slowly,  at  the  rate  of  not  more  than 
sixteen  in  a  second,  they  are  cognized  as 
separate  and  non-musical  noises.  When 
they  pass  beyond  that  rate  of  speed,  they 
are  cognized  as  a  continuous  musical  tone 
of  very  low  pitch  ;  a  state  of  consciousness 
which  seems  simple,  but  which  we  now  see 
is  really  compound.  As  the  speed  of  the 
blows  increases,  further  qualitative  differ- 
ences arise ;  the  musical  tone  rises  in 
pitch  until  it  becomes  too  acute  for  the  ear 
to  cognize,  and  thus  vanishes  from  con- 
sciousness. But  this  is  far  from  being  the 
whole  story  ;  for  the  series  of  blows  or  pul- 
sations make  not  only  a  single  vivid  funda- 
mental tone,  but  also  a  multifarious  com- 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  )i 

panion  group  of  fainter  overtones,  and  the 
diverse  blending  of  these  faint  harmonics 
constitutes  the  whole  difference  in  tone 
quality  between  the  piano  and  the  flute,  the 
violin  and  the  trumpet,  or  any  other  instru- 
ments. If  you  take  up  a  violin  and  sound 
the  F  one  octave  above  the  treble  staff, 
there  are  produced,  in  the  course  of  a  single 
second,  several  thousand  psychical  states 
which  together  make  up  the  sensation  of 
pitch,  fifty-five  times  as  many  psychical 
states  which  together  make  up  the  sensa- 
tion of  tone  quality,  and  an  immense  num- 
ber of  other  psychical  states  which  to- 
gether make  up  the  sensation  of  intensity. 
These  psychical  states  are  not,  in  any 
strict  sense  of  the  term,  states  of  con- 
sciousness ;  for  if  they  were  to  rise  indi- 
vidually into  consciousness,  the  result 
would  be  an  immense  multitude  of  sensa- 
tions, and  not  a  single  apparently  homo- 
geneous sensation.  There  is  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  conclude  that  in  this  case  a 
seemingly  simple  state  of  consciousness  is 


32  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

in  reality  compounded  of  an  immense  mul- 
titude of  sub-conscious  psychical  changes. 

Now,  what  is  thus  true  in  the  case  of 
musical  sounds  is  equally  true  of  all  states 
of  consciousness  whatever,  both  those  that 
we  call  intellectual  and  those  that  we  call 
emotional.  All  are  highly  compounded 
aggregates  of  innumerable  minute  sub-con- 
scious psychical  pulsations,  if  we  may  so  call 
them.  In  every  stream  of  human  con- 
sciousness that  we  call  a  soul  each  second 
of  time  witnesses  thousands  of  infinitely 
small  changes,  in  which  one  fleeting  group 
of  pulsations  in  the  primordial  mind-stuff 
gives  place  to  another  and  a  different  but 
equally  fleeting  group.  Each  group  is  un- 
like its  immediate  predecessor.  The  absence 
of  difference  would  be  continuance,  and 
continuance  means  stagnation,  blankness, 
negation,  death.  That  ceaseless  flutter, 
in  which  the  quintescence  of  conscious  life 
consists,  is  kept  up  by  the  perpetual  intro- 
duction of  the  relations  of  likeness  and 
unlikeness.  Each  one  of  the  infinitesimal 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  33 

changes  is  a  little  act  of  discrimination,  a 
recognition  of  a  unit  of  feeling  as  either 
like  or  unlike  some  other  unit  of  feeling. 
So  in  these  depths  of  the  soul's  life  the 
arrangements  and  re-arrangements  of  units 
go  on,  while  on  the  surface  the  results 
appear  from  moment  to  moment  in  sensa- 
tions keen  or  dull,  in  perceptions  clear  or 
vague,  in  judgments  wise  or  foolish,  in  mem- 
ories gay  or  sad,  in  sordid  or  lofty  trains  of 
thought,  in  gusts  of  anger  or  thrills  of  love. 
The  whole  fabric  of  human  thought  and 
human  emotion  is  built  up  out  of  minute 
sub-conscious  discriminations  of  likenesses 
and  unlikenesses,  just  as  much  as  the  ma- 
terial world  in  all  its  beauty  is  built  up  out 
of  undulations  among  invisible  molecules. 


VI 


Without  the  Element  of  Antagonism  there 
could  be  no  Consciousness,  and  therefore 
no  World 

E  may  now  come  up  out  of  these 
depths,  accessible  only  to  the  plum- 
met of  psychologic  analysis,  and 
move  with  somewhat  freer  gait  in  the  re- 
gion of  common  and  familiar  experiences. 
It  is  an  undeniable  fact  that  we  cannot 
know  anything  whatever  except  as  con- 
trasted with  something  else.  The  contrast 
may  be  bold  and  sharp,  or  it  may  dwindle 
into  a  slight  discrimination,  but  it  must  be 
there.  If  the  figures  on  your  canvas  are 
indistinguishable  from  the  background, 
there  is  surely  no  picture  to  be  seen.  Some 
element  of  unlikeness,  some  germ  of  antag- 
onism, some  chance  for  discrimination,  is 
essential  to  every  act  of  knowing.  I  might 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  35 

have  illustrated  this  point  concretely  with- 
out all  the  foregoing  explanation,  but  I 
have  aimed  at  paying  it  the  respect  due  to 
its  vast  importance.  I  have  wished  to  show 
how  the  fact  that  we  cannot  know  anything 
whatever  except  as  contrasted  with  some- 
thing else  is  a  fact  that  is  deeply  rooted  in 
the  innermost  structure  of  the  human  mind. 
It  is  not  a  superficial  but  a  fundamental 
truth,  that  if  there  were  no  colour  but  red  it 
would  be  exactly  the  same  thing  as  if  there 
were  no  colour  at  all.  In  a  world  of  unqual- 
ified redness,  our  state  of  mind  with  regard 
to  colour  would  be  precisely  like  our  state 
of  mind  in  the  present  world  with  regard  to 
the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  if  we  were 
always  to  stay  in  one  place.  We  are  always 
bearing  up  against  the  burden  of  this  deep 
aerial  ocean,  nearly  fifteen  pounds  upon 
every  square  inch  of  our  bodies  ;  but  until 
we  can  get  a  chance  to  discriminate,  as  by 
climbing  a  mountain,  we  are  quite  uncon- 
scious of  this  heavy  pressure.  In  the  same 
way,  if  we  knew  but  one  colour  we  should 


56  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

know  no  colour.  If  our  ears  were  to  be 
filled  with  one  monotonous  roar  of  Niagara, 
unbroken  by  alien  sounds,  the  effect  upon 
consciousness  would  be  absolute  silence. 
If  our  palates  had  never  come  in  contact 
with  any  tasteful  thing  save  sugar,  we  should 
know  no  more  of  sweetness  than  of  bitter- 
ness. If  we  had  never  felt  physical  pain, 
we  could  not  recognize  physical  pleasure. 
For  want  of  the  contrasted  background  its 
pleasurableness  would  be  non-existent.  And 
in  just  the  same  way  it  follows  that  without 
knowing  that  which  is  morally  evil  we  could 
not  possibly  recognize  that  which  is  morally 
good.  Of  these  antagonist  correlatives, 
the  one  is  unthinkable  in  the  absence  of 
the  other.  In  a  sinless  and  painless  world, 
human  conduct  might  possess  more  out- 
ward marks  of  perfection  than  any  saint 
ever  dreamed  of ;  but  the  moral  element 
would  be  lacking ;  the  goodness  would  have 
no  more  significance  in  our  conscious  life 
than  that  load  of  atmosphere  which  we  are 
always  carrying  about  with  us. 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  37 

We  are  thus  brought  to  a  striking  con- 
clusion, the  essential  soundness  of  which 
cannot  be  gainsaid.  In  a  happy  world  there 
must  be  sorrow  and  pain,  and  in  a  moral 
world  the  knowledge  of  evil  is  indispensa- 
ble. The  stern  necessity  for  this  has  been 
proved  to  inhere  in  the  innermost  constitu- 
tion of  the  human  soul.  It  is  part  and  par- 
cel of  the  universe.  To  him  who  is  disposed 
to  cavil  at  the  world  which  God  has  in  such 
wise  created,  we  may  fairly  put  the  ques- 
tion whether  the  prospect  of  escape  from 
its  ills  would  ever  induce  him  to  put  off  this 
human  consciousness,  and  accept  in  ex- 
change some  form  of  existence  unknown 
and  inconceivable !  The  alternative  is  clear : 
on  the  one  hand  a  world  with  sin  and  suf- 
fering, on  the  other  hand  an  unthinkable 
world  in  which  conscious  life  does  not  in- 
volve contrast. 

The  profound  truth  of  Aristotle's  remark 
is  thus  more  forcibly  than  ever  brought 
home  to  us.  We  do  not  find  that  evil  has 
been  interpolated  into  the  universe  from 


38  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

without ;  we  find  that,  on  the  contrary,  it 
is  an  indispensable  part  of  the  dramatic 
whole.  God  is  the  creator  of  evil,  and  from 
the  eternal  scheme  of  things  diabolism  is 
forever  excluded.  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman 
have  had  their  day  and  perished,  along  with 
the  doctrine  of  special  creations  and  other 
fancies  of  the  untutored  human  mind. 
From  our  present  standpoint  we  may  fairly 
ask,  What  would  have  been  the  worth  of 
that  primitive  innocence  portrayed  in  the 
myth  of  the  garden  of  Eden,  had  it  ever  been 
realized  in  the  life  of  men  ?  What  would 
have  been  the  moral  value  or  significance  of 
a  race  of  human  beings  ignorant  of  sin,  and 
doing  beneficent  acts  with  no  more  con- 
sciousness or  volition  than  the  deftly  con- 
trived machine  that  picks  up  raw  material 
at  one  end,  and  turns  out  some  finished 
product  at  the  other  ?  Clearly,  for  strong 
and  resolute  men  and  women  an  Eden 
would  be  but  a  fool's  paradise.  How  could 
anything  fit  to  be  called  character\&xo.  ever 
been  produced  there  ?  But  for  tasting  the 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  39 

forbidden  fruit,  in  what  respect  could  man 
have  become  a  being  of  higher  order  than 
the  beasts  of  the  field  ?  An  interesting 
question  is  this,  for  it  leads  us  to  consider 
the  genesis  of  the  idea  of  moral  evil  in  man. 


VII 


A  Word  of  Caution 

EFORE  we  enter  upon  this  topic 
a  word  of  caution  may  be  needed. 
I  do  not  wish  the  purpose  of  the 
foregoing  questions  to  be  misunderstood. 
The  serial  nature  of  human  thinking  and 
speaking  makes  it  impossible  to  express 
one's  thought  on  any  great  subject  in  a 
solid  block ;  one  must  needs  give  it  forth 
in  consecutive  fragments,  so  that  parts  of 
it  run  the  risk  of  being  lost  upon  the  reader 
or  hearer,  while  other  parts  are  made  to 
assume  undue  proportions.  Moreover,  there 
are  many  minds  that  habitually  catch  at  the 
fragments  of  a  thought,  and  never  seize 
it  in  the  block ;  and  in  such  manner  do 
strange  misconceptions  arise.  I  never  could 
have  dreamed,  until  taught  by  droll  experi- 
ence, that  the  foregoing  allusions  to  the 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  41 

garden  of  Eden  could  be  understood  as  a 
glorification  of  sin,  and  an  invitation  to  my 
fellow-men  to  come  forth  with  me  and  be 
wicked  !  But  even  so  it  was,  on  one  occa- 
sion when  I  was  trying,  somewhat  more 
scantily  than  here,  to  state  the  present  case. 
In  the  midst  of  my  endeavour  to  justify 
the  grand  spirit  of  faith  which  our  fathers 
showed  when  from  abysmal  depths  of  afflic- 
tion they  never  failed  to  cry  that  God  doeth 
all  things  well,  I  was  suddenly  interrupted 
with  queries  as  to  just  what  percentage  of 
sin  and  crime  I  regarded  as  needful  for  the 
moral  equilibrium  of  the  universe ;  how 
much  did  I  propose  to  commit  myself,  how 
much  would  I  advise  people  in  general  to 
commit,  and  just  where  would  I  have  them 
stop  !  Others  deemed  it  necessary  to  re- 
mind me  that  there  is  already  too  much 
suffering  in  the  world,  and  we  ought  not 
to  seek  to  increase  it ;  that  the  difference 
between  right  and  wrong  is  of  great  practi- 
cal importance ;  and  that  if  we  try  to  treat 
evil  as  good  we  shall  make  good  no  better 
than  evil. 


42  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

When  one  has  sufficiently  recovered  one's 
gravity,  it  is  permissible  to  reply  to  such 
criticisms  that  the  sharp  antithesis  between 
good  and  evil  is  essential  to  every  step  of 
my  argument,  which  would  entirely  col- 
lapse if  the  antagonism  were  for  one  mo- 
ment disregarded.  The  quantity  of  suffer- 
ing in  the  world  is  unquestionably  so  great 
as  to  prompt  us  to  do  all  in  our  power  to 
diminish  it ;  such  we  shall  presently  see 
must  be  the  case  in  a  world  that  proceeds 
through  stages  of  evolution.  When  one 
reverently  assumes  that  it  was  through 
some  all-wise  and  holy  purpose  that  sin  was 
permitted  to  come  into  the  world,  it  ought 
to  be  quite  superfluous  to  add  that  the  ful- 
filment of  any  such  purpose  demands  that 
sin  be  not  cherished,  but  suppressed.  If 
one  seeks,  as  a  philosopher,  to  explain  and 
justify  God's  wholesale  use  of  death  in  the 
general  economy  of  the  universe,  is  one 
forsooth  to  be  charged  with  praising  mur- 
der as  a  fine  art  and  with  seeking  to  found 
a  society  of  Thugs  ? 


VIII 
The  Hermit  and  the 

HE  simple-hearted  monks  of  the 
Middle  Ages  understood,  in  their 
own  quaint  way,  that  God's  meth- 
ods of  governing  this  universe  are  not  al- 
ways fit  to  be  imitated  by  his  finite  crea- 
tures. In  one  of  the  old  stories  that 
furnished  entertainment  and  instruction  for 
the  cloister  it  is  said  that  a  hermit  and  an 
angel  once  journeyed  together.  The  angel 
was  in  human  form  and  garb,  but  had  told 
his  companion  the  secret  of  his  exalted 
rank  and  nature.  Coming  at  nightfall  to  a 
humble  house  by  the  wayside,  the  two  trav- 
ellers craved  shelter  for  the  love  of  God. 
A  dainty  supper  and  a  soft,  warm  bed  were 
given  them,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
the  angel  arose  and  strangled  the  kind 
host's  infant  son,  who  was  quietly  sleeping 


44  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

in  his  cradle.  The  good  hermit  was  para- 
lyzed with  amazement  and  horror,  but  dared 
not  speak  a  word.  The  next  night  the  two 
comrades  were  entertained  at  a  fine  man- 
sion in  the  city,  where  the  angel  stole  the 
superb  golden  cup  from  which  his  host  had 
quaffed  wine  at  dinner.  Next  day,  while 
crossing  the  bridge  over  a  deep  and  rapid 
stream,  a  pilgrim  met  the  travellers.  "  Canst 
thou  show  us,  good  father,"  said  the  angel, 
"  the  way  to  the  next  town  ?  "  As  the 
pilgrim  turned  to  point  it  out,  this  terrible 
being  caught  him  by  the  shoulder  and  flung 
him  into  the  river  to  drown.  "Verily," 
thought  the  poor  hermit,  "  it  is  a  devil  that 
I  have  here  with  me,  and  all  his  works  are 
evil ; "  but  fear  held  his  tongue,  and  the 
twain  fared  on  their  way  till  the  sun  had 
set  and  snow  began  to  fall,  and  the  howling 
of  wolves  was  heard  in  the  forest  hard  by. 
Presently  the  bright  light  coming  from  a 
cheerful  window  gave  hope  of  a  welcome 
refuge  ;  but  the  surly  master  of  the  house 
turned  the  travellers  away  from  his  door 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  45 

with  curses  and  foul  gibes.  "Yonder  is 
my  pig-sty  for  dirty  vagrants  like  you." 
So  they  passed  that  night  among  the  swine ; 
and  in  the  morning  the  angel  went  to  the 
house  and  thanked  the  master  for  his  hospi- 
tality, and  gave  him  for  a  keepsake  (thrifty 
angel !)  the  stolen  goblet.  Then  did  the 
hermit's  wrath  and  disgust  overcome  his 
fears,  and  he  loudly  upbraided  hjs  com- 
panion. "  Get  thee  gone,  wretched  spirit ! " 
he  cried.  "  I  will  have  no  more  of  thee. 
Thou  pretendest  to  be  a  messenger  from 
heaven,  yet  thou  requitest  good  with  evil, 
and  evil  with  good  ! "  Then  did  the  angel 
look  upon  him  with  infinite  compassion  in 
his  eyes.  "  Listen,"  said  he,  "  short-sighted 
mortal.  The  birth  of  that  infant  son  had 
made  the  father  covetous,  breaking  God's 
commandments  in  order  to  heap  up  trea- 
sures which  the  boy,  if  he  had  lived,  would 
have  wasted  in  idle  debauchery.  By  my 
act,  which  seemed  so  cruel,  I  saved  both 
parent  and  child.  The  owner  of  the  goblet 
had  once  been  abstemious,  but  was  fast 


46  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

becoming  a  sot ;  the  loss  of  his  cup  has  set 
him  to  thinking,  and  he  will  mend  his  ways. 
The  poor  pilgrim,  unknown  to  himself,  was 
about  to  commit  a  mortal  sin,  when  I  inter- 
fered and  sent  his  unsullied  soul  to  heaven. 
As  for  the  wretch  who  drove  God's  chil- 
dren from  his  door,  he  is,  indeed,  pleased 
for  the  moment  with  the  bauble  I  left  in 
his  hands;  but  hereafter  he  will  burn  in 
hell."  So  spoke  the  angel ;  and  when  he 
had  heard  these  words  the  hermit  bowed 
his  venerable  head  and  murmured,  "  For- 
give me,  Lord,  that  in  my  ignorance  I  mis- 
judged thee." 

I  suspect  that,  with  all  our  boasted  sci- 
ence, there  is  still  much  wisdom  for  us  in 
the  humble  childlike  piety  of  the  Gesta 
Romanorum.  To  say  that  the  ways  of 
Providence  are  inscrutable  is  still  some- 
thing more  than  an  idle  platitude,  and 
there  still  is  room  for  the  belief  that,  could 
we  raise  the  veil  that  enshrouds  eternal 
truth,  we  should  see  that  behind  nature's 
crudest  works  there  are  secret  springs  of 


Tbe  Mystery  of  Evil  47 

divinest  tenderness  and  love.  In  this  trust- 
ful mood  we  may  now  return  to  the  ques- 
tion as  to  the  genesis  of  the  idea  of  moral 
evil,  and  its  close  connection  with  man's 
rise  from  a  state  of  primeval  innocence. 


IX 

Man's  Rise  from  the  Innocence  of  Brutehood 
E  have  first  to  note  that  in  various 


ways  the  action  of  natural  selec- 
tion has  been  profoundly  modified 
in  the  course  of  the  development  of  man- 
kind from  a  race  of  inferior  creatures.  One 
of  the  chief  factors  in  the  production  of 
man  was  the  change  that  occurred  in  the 
direction  of  the  working  of  natural  selec- 
tion, whereby  in  the  line  of  man's  direct 
ancestry  the  variations  in  intelligence  came 
to  be  seized  upon,  cherished,  and  enhanced, 
to  the  comparative  neglect  of  variations  in 
bodily  structure.  The  physical  differences 
between  man  and  ape  are  less  important 
than  the  physical  differences  between  Afri- 
can and  South  American  apes.  The  latter 
belong  to  different  zoological  families,  but 
the  former  do  not.  Zoologically,  man  is 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  49 

simply  one  genus  in  the  old-world  family 
of  apes.  Psychologically,  he  has  travelled 
so  far  from  apes  that  the  distance  is 
scarcely  measurable.  This  transcendent 
contrast  is  primarily  due  to  the  change  in 
the  direction  of  the  working  of  natural 
selection.  The  consequences  of  this  change 
were  numerous  and  far-reaching.  One  con- 
sequence was  that  gradual  lengthening  of 
the  plastic  period  of  infancy  which  enabled 
man  to  became  a  progressive  creature,  and 
organized  the  primeval  semi-human  horde 
into  definite  family  groups.  I  have  else- 
where expounded  this  point,  and  it  is  known 
as  my  own  especial  contribution  to  the 
theory  of  evolution. 

Another  associated  consequence,  which 
here  more  closely  concerns  us,  was  the 
partial  stoppage  of  the  process  of  natural 
selection  in  remedying  unfitness.  A  quo- 
tation from  Herbert  Spencer  will  help  us  to 
understand  this  partial  stoppage  :  "  As  fast 
as  the  faculties  are  multiplied,  so  fast  does 
it  become  possible  for  the  several  mem- 


50  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

bers  of  a  species  to  have  various  kinds  of 
superiorities  over  one  another.  While  one 
saves  its  life  by  higher  speed,  another  does 
the  like  by  clearer  vision,  another  by  keener 
scent,  another  by  quicker  hearing,  another 
by  greater  strength,  another  by  unusual 
power  of  enduring  cold  or  hunger,  another 
by  special  sagacity,  another  by  special  timid- 
ity, another  by  special  courage.  .  .  .  Now 
...  each  of  these  attributes,  giving  its  pos- 
sessor an  extra  chance  of  life,  is  likely  to 
be  transmitted  to  posterity.  But  "  it  is  not 
nearly  so  likely  to  be  increased  by  natural 
selection.  For  "  if  those  members  of  the 
species  which  have  but  ordinary"  or  even 
deficient  shares  of  some  valuable  attribute 
"nevertheless  survive  by  virtue  of  other 
superiorities  which  they  severally  possess, 
then  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  this  particu- 
lar attribute  can  be  "  enhanced  in  subse- 
quent generations  by  natural  selection.1 

These  considerations  apply  especially  to 
the  human  race  with  its  multitudinous  capa- 

i  Biology,  i.  454. 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  51 

cities,  and  I  can  better  explain  the  case  by 
a  crude  and  imperfect  illustration  than  by  a 
detailed  and  elaborate  statement.  If  an 
individual  antelope  falls  below  the  average 
of  the  herd  in  speed,  he  is  sure  to  become 
food  for  lions,  and  thus  the  high  average  of 
speed  in  the  herd  is  maintained  by  natural 
selection.  But  if  an  individual  man  becomes 
a  drunkard,  though  his  capabilities  be  ever 
so  much  curtailed  by  this  vice,  yet  the 
variety  of  human  faculty  furnishes  so  many 
hooks  with  which  to  keep  one's  hold  upon 
life  that  he  may  sin  long  and  flagrantly 
without  perishing ;  and  if  the  drunkard  sur- 
vives, the  action  of  natural  selection  in  weed- 
ing out  drunkenness  is  checked.  There  is 
thus  a  wide  interval  between  the  highest 
and  lowest  degrees  of  completeness  in  liv- 
ing that  are  compatible  with  maintenance 
of  life.  Mankind  has  so  many  other  quali- 
ties beside  the  bad  ones,  which  enable  it  to 
subsist  and  achieve  progress  in  spite  of 
them,  that  natural  selection  —  which  always 
works  through  death  —  cannot  come  into 
play. 


52  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

Now  it  is  because  of  this  interval  between 
the  highest  and  lowest  degrees  of  complete- 
ness of  living  that  are  compatible  with  the 
mere  maintenance  of  life,  that  men  can  be 
distinguished  as  morally  bad  or  morally 
good.  In  inferior  animals,  where  there  is 
no  such  interval,  there  is  no  developed  mo- 
rality or  conscience,  though  in  a  few  of  the 
higher  ones  there  are  the  germs  of  these 
things.  Morality  comes  upon  the  scene 
when  there  is  an  alternative  offered  of  lead- 
ing better  lives  or  worse  lives.  And  just 
as  up  to  this  point  the  actions  of  the  fore- 
fathers of  mankind  have  been  determined 
by  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  avoidance  of 
pain,  so  now  they  begin  to  be  practically 
determined  by  the  pursuit  of  goodness  and 
avoidance  of  evil.  This  rise  from  a  bes- 
tial to  a  moral  plane  of  existence  involves 
the  acquirement  of  the  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil.  Conscience  is  generated  to  play  a 
part  analogous  to  that  played  by  the  sense 
of  pain  in  the  lower  stages  of  life,  and  to 
keep  us  from  wrong  doing.  To  the  mere 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  53 

love  of  life,  which  is  the  conservative  force 
that  keeps  the  whole  animal  world  in  exist- 
ence, there  now  comes  gradually  to  be  super- 
added  the  feeling  of  religious  aspiration, 
which  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the 
yearning  after  the  highest  possible  com- 
pleteness of  spiritual  life.  In  the  lower 
stages  of  human  development  this  religious 
aspiration  has  as  yet  but  an  embryonic  ex- 
istence, and  moral  obligations  are  still  but 
imperfectly  recognized.  It  is  only  after 
long  ages  of  social  discipline,  fraught  with 
cruel  afflictions  and  grinding  misery,  that 
the  moral  law  becomes  dominant  and  reli- 
gious aspiration  intense  and  abiding  in  the 
soul.  When  such  a  stage  is  reached,  we 
have  at  last  in  man  a  creature  different  in 
kind  from  his  predecessors,  and  fit  for  an 
everlasting  life  of  progress,  for  a  closer  and 
closer  communion  with  God  in  beatitude 
that  shall  endure. 


X 


The  Relativity  of  Evil 

S  we  survey  the  course  of  this  won- 
derful evolution,  it  begins  to  become 
manifest  that  moral  evil  is  simply 
the  characteristic  of  the  lower  state  of  liv- 
ing as  looked  at  from  the  higher  state.  Its 
existence  is  purely  relative,  yet  it  is  pro- 
foundly real,  and  in  a  process  of  perpetual 
spiritual  evolution  its  presence  in  some  hide- 
ous form  throughout  a  long  series  of  upward 
stages  is  indispensable.  Its  absence  would 
mean  stagnation,  quiescence,  unprogressive- 
ness.  For  the  moment  we  exercise  con- 
scious choice  between  one  course  of  action 
and  another,  we  recognize  the  difference 
between  better  and  worse,  we  foreshadow 
the  whole  grand  contrast  between  good  and 
bad.  In  the  process  of  spiritual  evolution, 
therefore,  evil  must  needs  be  present.  But 


The  Mystery  of  Evil  55 

the  nature  of  evolution  also  requires  that  it 
should  be  evanescent.  In  the  higher  stages 
that  which  is  worse  than  the  best  need  no 
longer  be  positively  bad.  After  the  nature 
,  of  that  which  the  upward-striving  soul  ab- 
hors has  been  forever  impressed  upon  it, 
amid  the  long  vicissitudes  of  its  pilgrimage 
through  the  dark  realms  of  sin  and  expia- 
tion, it  is  at  length  equipped  for  its  final 
sojourn 

"  In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love." 

From  the  general  analogies  furnished  in  the 
process  of  evolution,  we  are  entitled  to  hope 
that,  as  it  approaches  its  goal  and  man 
comes  nearer  to  God,  the  fact  of  evil  will 
lapse  into  a  mere  memory,  in  which  the 
shadowed  past  shall  serve  as  a  background 
for  the  realized  glory  of  the  present. 

Thus  we  have  arrived  at  the  goal  of  my 
argument.  We  can  at  least  begin  to  realize 
distinctly  that  unless  our  eyes  had  been 
opened  at  some  time,  so  that  we  might 
come  to  know  the  good  and  the  evil,  we 
should  never  have  become  fashioned  in 


56  The  Mystery  of  Evil 

God's  image.  We  should  have  been  the 
denizens  of  a  world  of  puppets,  where  nei- 
ther morality  nor  religion  could  have  found 
place  or  meaning.  The  mystery  of  evil 
remains  a  mystery  still,  but  it  is  no  longer 
a  harsh  dissonance  such  as  greeted  the 
poet's  ear  when  the  doors  of  hell  were 
thrown  open ;  for  we  see  that  this  mystery 
belongs  among  the  profound  harmonies  in 
God's  creation.  This  reflection  may  have 
in  it  something  that  is  consoling  as  we  look 
forth  upon  the  ills  of  the  world.  Many  are 
the  pains  of  life,  and  the  struggle  with 
wickedness  is  hard ;  its  course  is  marked 
with  sorrow  and  tears.  But  assuredly  its 
deep  impress  upon  the  human  soul  is  the 
indispensable  background  against  which 
shall  be  set  hereafter  the  eternal  joys  of 
heaven ! 


THE   COSMIC    ROOTS    OF   LOVE 
AND   SELF-SACRIFICE 


O  abbondante  grazia,  ond'  io  presunsi 

Ficcar  lo  viso  per  la  luce  eterna 

Tanto,  che  la  veduta  vi  consunsi ! 
Nel  suo  profondo  vidi  che  s'  interna, 

Legato  con  amore  in  un  volume, 

Cib  che  per  1'  universo  si  squaderna. 

DANTE,  Paradiso,  xxxiii.  82. 


The  Summer  Field,  and  what  it  tells  us 


HERE  are  few  sights  in  Nature 
more  restful  to  the  soul  than  a 
daisied  field  in  June.  Whether  it 
be  at  the  dewy  hour  of  sunrise,  with  blithe 
matin  songs  still  echoing  among  the  tree- 
tops,  or  while  the  luxuriant  splendour  of 
noontide  fills  the  delicate  tints  of  the  early 
foliage  with  a  pure  glory  of  light,  or  in  that 
more  pensive  time  when  long  shadows  are 
thrown  eastward  and  the  fresh  breath  of 
the  sea  is  felt,  or  even  under  the  solemn 
mantle  of  darkness,  when  all  forms  have 
faded  from  sight  and  the  night  air  is  musi- 
cal with  the  murmurs  of  innumerable  in- 
sects, amid  all  the  varying  moods  through 
which  the  daily  cycle  runs,  the  abiding 
sense  is  of  unalloyed  happiness,  the  pro- 


60  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

found  tranquillity  of  mind  and  heart  that 
nothing  ever  brings  save  the  contemplation 
of  perfect  beauty.  One's  thought  is  carried 
back  for  the  moment  to  that  morning  of 
the  world  when  God  looked  upon  his  work 
and  saw  that  it  was  good.  If  in  the  infinite 
and  eternal  Creative  Energy  one  might 
imagine  some  inherent  impulse  perpetually 
urging  toward  fresh  creation,  what  could  it 
be  more  likely  to  be  than  the  divine  con- 
tentment in  giving  objective  existence  to 
the  boundless  and  subtle  harmonies  where- 
of our  world  is  made  ?  That  it  is  a  world 
of  perfect  harmony  and  unsullied  beauty, 
who  can  doubt  as  he  strolls  through  this 
summer  field  ?  As  our  thought  plays  lightly 
with  its  sights  and  sounds,  there  is  nothing 
but  gladness  in  the  laugh  of  the  bobolink ; 
the  thrush's  tender  note  tells  only  of  the 
sweet  domestic  companionship  of  the  nest ; 
creeping  and  winged  things  emerging  from 
their  grubs  fill  us  with  the  sense  of  abound- 
ing life ;  and  the  myriad  buttercups,  hal- 
lowed with  vague  memories  of  June  days  in 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  61 

childhood,  lose  none  of  their  charm  in  re- 
minding us  of  the  profound  sympathy  and 
mutual  dependence  in  which  the  worlds  of 
flowers  and  insects  have  grown  up.  The 
blades  of  waving  grass,  the  fluttering  leaves 
upon  the  lilac  bush,  appeal  to  us  with  rare 
fascination  ;  for  the  green  stuff  that  fills 
their  cellular  tissues,  and  the  tissues  of  all 
green  things  that  grow,  is  the  world's  great 
inimitable  worker  of  wonders  ;  its  marvel- 
lous alchemy  takes  dead  matter  and  breathes 
into  it  the  breath  of  life.  But  for  that  ma- 
gician chlorophyll,  conjuring  with  sunbeams, 
such  things  as  animal  life  and  conscious  in- 
telligence would  be  impossible ;  there  would 
be  no  problems  of  creation,  nor  philosopher 
to  speculate  upon  them.  Thus  the  delight 
that  sense  impression  gives,  as  we  wander 
among  buttercups  and  daisies,  becomes 
deepened  into  gratitude  and  veneration,  till 
we  quite  understand  how  the  rejuvenescence 
of  Nature  should  in  all  ages  have  aroused 
men  to  acts  of  worship,  and  should  call  forth 
from  modern  masters  of  music,  the  most 


62  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

religious  of  the  arts  of  expression,  outbursts 

of  sublimest  song. 

And  yet  we  need  but  come  a  little  closer 
to  the  facts  to  find  them  apparently  telling 
us  a  very  different  story.  The  moment  we 
penetrate  below  the  superficial  aspect  of 
things  the  scene  is  changed.  In  the  folk- 
lore of  Ireland  there  is  a  widespread  belief 
in  a  fairyland  of  eternal  hope  and  bright- 
ness and  youth  situated  a  little  way  below  the 
roots  of  the  grass.  From  that  land  of  Tir 
nan  Og,  as  the  peasants  call  it,  the  secret 
springs  of  life  shoot  forth  their  scions  in 
this  visible  world,  and  thither  a  few  favoured 
mortals  have  now  and  then  found  their  way. 
It  is  into  no  blest  country  of  Tir  nan  Og 
that  our  stern  science  leads  us,  but  into  a 
scene  of  ugliness  and  hatred,  strife  and 
massacre.  Macaulay  tells  of  the  battlefield 
of  Neerwinden,  that  the  next  summer  after 
that  frightful  slaughter  the  whole  country- 
side was  densely  covered  with  scarlet  pop- 
pies, which  people  beheld  with  awe  as  a 
token  of  wrath  in  heaven  over  the  deeds 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  63 

wrought  on  earth  by  human  passions.  Any 
summer  field,  though  mantled  in  softest 
green,  is  the  scene  of  butchery  as  wholesale 
as  that  of  Neerwinden  and  far  more  ruth- 
less. The  life  of  its  countless  tiny  denizens 
is  one  of  unceasing  toil,  of  crowding  and 
jostling,  where  the  weaker  fall  unpitied  by 
the  way,  of  starvation  from  hunger  and 
cold,  of  robbery  utterly  shameless  and  mur- 
der utterly  cruel.  That  green  sward  in 
taking  possession  of  its  territory  has  exter- 
minated scores  of  flowering  plants  of  the 
sort  that  human  economics  and  aesthetics 
stigmatize  as  weeds ;  nor  do  the  blades  of 
the  victorious  army  dwell  side  by  side  in 
amity,  but  in  their  eagerness  to  dally  with 
the  sunbeams  thrust  aside  and  supplant 
one  another  without  the  smallest  compunc- 
tion. Of  the  crawling  insects  and  those 
that  hum  through  the  air,  with  the  quaint 
snail,  the  burrowing  worm,  the  bloated  toad, 
scarce  one  in  a  hundred  but  succumbs  to 
the  buffets  of  adverse  fortune  before  it  has 
achieved  maturity  and  left  offspring  to  re- 


64  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

place  it.  The  early  bird,  who  went  forth  in 
quest  of  the  worm,  was  lucky  if  at  the  close 
of  a  day  as  full  of  strife  and  peril  as  ever 
knight-errant  encountered,  he  did  not  him- 
self serve  as  a  meal  for  some  giant  foe  in  the 
gloaming.  When  we  think  of  the  hawk's 
talons  buried  in  the  breast  of  the  wren, 
while  the  relentless  beak  tears  the  little 
wings  from  the  quivering,  bleeding  body, 
our  mood  toward  Nature  is  changed,  and  we 
feel  like  recoiling  from  a  world  in  which 
such  black  injustice,  such  savage  disregard 
for  others,  is  part  of  the  general  scheme. 


II 


Seeming  Wastefulness  of  the  Cosmic  Process 

UT  as  we  look  still  further  into  the 
matter,  our  mood  is  changed  once 
more.  We  find  that  this  hideous 
hatred  and  strife,  this  wholesale  famine  and 
death,  furnish  the  indispensable  conditions 
for  the  evolution  of  higher  and  higher  types 
of  life.  Nay  more,  but  for  the  pitiless  de- 
struction of  all  individuals  that  fall  short  of 
a  certain  degree  of  fitness  to  the  circum- 
stances of  life  into  which  they  are  born,  the 
type  would  inevitably  degenerate,  the  life 
would  become  lower  and  meaner  in  kind. 
Increase  in  richness,  variety,  complexity  of 
life  is  gained  only  by  the  selection  of  varia- 
tions above  or  beyond  a  certain  mean,  and 
the  prompt  execution  of  a  death  sentence 
upon  all  the  rest.  The  principle  of  natural 
selection  is  in  one  respect  intensely  Calvin- 


66  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

istic  ;  it  elects  the  one  and  damns  the  ninety 
and  nine.  In  these  processes  of  Nature 
there  is  nothing  that  savours  of  communis- 
tic equality  ;  but  "to  him  that  hath  shall  be 
given,  and  from  him  that  hath  not  shall 
be  taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath." 
Through  this  selection  of  a  favoured  few,  a 
higher  type  of  life  —  or  at  all  events  a  type 
in  which  there  is  more  life  —  is  attained  in 
many  cases,  but  not  always.  Evolution  and 
progress  are  not  synonymous  terms.  The 
survival  of  the  fittest  is  not  always  a  sur- 
vival of  the  best  or  of  the  most  highly 
organized.  The  environment  is  sometimes 
such  that  increase  of  fitness  means  degener- 
ation of  type,  and  the  animal  and  vegetable 
worlds  show  many  instances  of  degenera- 
tion. One  brilliant  instance  is  that  which 
has  preserved  the  clue  to  the  remote  ances- 
try of  the  vertebrate  type.  The  molluscoid 
ascidian,  rooted  polyp-like  on  the  sea  beach 
in  shallow  water,  has  an  embryonic  history 
which  shows  that  its  ancestors  had  once 
seen  better  days,  when  they  darted  to  and 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  6j 

fro,  fishlike,  through  the  waves,  with  the  pro- 
phecy of  a  vertebrate  skeleton  within  them. 
This  is  a  case  of  marked  degeneration. 
More  often  survival  of  the  fittest  simply 
preserves  the  type  unchanged  through  long 
periods  of  time.  But  now  and  then  under 
favourable  circumstances  it  raises  the  type. 
At  all  events,  whenever  the  type  is  raised, 
it  is  through  survival  of  the  fittest,  implying 
destruction  of  all  save  the  fittest. 

This  last  statement  is  probably  true  of 
all  plants  and  of  all  animals  except  that 
as  applied  to  the  human  race  it  needs  some 
transcendently  important  qualifications 
which  students  of  evolution  are  very  apt  to 
neglect.  I  shall  by  and  by  point  out  these 
qualifications.  At  present  we  may  note 
that  the  development  of  civilization,  on  its 
political  side,  has  been  a  stupendous  strug- 
gle for  life,  wherein  the  possession  of  cer- 
tain physical  and  mental  attributes  has 
enabled  some  tribes  or  nations  to  prevail 
over  others,  and  to  subject  or  exterminate 
them.  On  its  industrial  side  the  struggle 


68  Love  and  Self-Sacrifae 

has  been  no  less  fierce  ;  the  evolution  of 
higher  efficiency  through  merciless  com- 
petition is  a  matter  of  common  knowledge. 
Alike  in  the  occupations  of  war  and  in  those 
of  peace,  superior  capacity  has  thriven  upon 
victories  in  which  small  heed  has  been  paid 
to  the  wishes  or  the  welfare  of  the  van- 

9 

quished.  In  human  history  perhaps  no  re- 
lation has  been  more  persistently  repeated 
than  that  of  the  hawk  and  the  wren.  The 
aggression  has  usually  been  defended  as 
in  the  interests  of  higher  civilization,  and 
in  the  majority  of  cases  the  defence  has 
been  sustained  by  the  facts.  It  has  indeed 
very  commonly  been  true  that  the  survival 
of  the  strongest  is  the  survival  of  the 
fittest. 

Such  considerations  affect  our  mood  to- 
ward Nature  in  a  way  that  is  somewhat 
bewildering.  On  the  one  hand,  as  we  re- 
cognize in  the  universal  strife  and  slaughter 
a  stern  discipline  through  which  the  stand- 
ard of  animate  existence  is  raised  and  the 
life  of  creatures  variously  enriched,  we  be- 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  69 

come  to  some  extent  reconciled  to  the  facts. 
Assuming,  as  we  all  do,  that  the  attainment 
of  higher  life  is  in  itself  desirable,  our  minds 
cannot  remain  utterly  inhospitable  towards 
things,  however  odious  in  themselves,  that 
help  toward  the  desirable  end.  Since  we 
cannot  rid  the  world  of  them,  we  acquiesce 
in  their  existence  as  part  of  the  machinery 
of  God's  providence,  the  intricacies  of  which 
our  finite  minds  cannot  hope  to  unravel. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  thought  is  likely  to 
arise  which  in  days  gone  by  we  should  have 
striven  to  suppress  as  too  impious  for  utter- 
ance ;  but  it  is  wiser  to  let  such  thoughts 
find  full  expression,  for  only  thus  can  we  be 
sure  of  understanding  the  kind  of  problem 
we  are  trying  to  solve.  Is  not,  then,  this 
method  of  Nature,  which  achieves  progress 
only  through  misery  and  death,  an  exceed- 
ingly brutal  and  clumsy  method  ?  Life,  one 
would  think,  must  be  dear  to  the  everlast- 
ing Giver  of  life,  yet  how  cheap  it  seems  to 
be  held  in  the  general  scheme  of  things ! 
In  order  that  some  race  of  moths  may  at- 


jo  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

tain  a  certain  fantastic  contour  and  marking 
of  their  wings,  untold  thousands  of  moths 
are  doomed  to  perish  prematurely.  Instead 
of  making  the  desirable  object  once  for  all, 
the  method  of  Nature  is  to  make  something 
else  and  reject  it,  and  so  on  through  count- 
less ages,  till  by  slow  approximations  the 
creative  thought  is  realized.  Nature  is 
often  called  thrifty,  yet  could  anything  be 
more  prodigal  or  more  cynical  than  the 
waste  of  individual  lives?  Does  it  not  re- 
mind one  of  Charles  Lamb's  famous  story 
of  the  Chinaman  whose  house  accidentally 
burned  down  and  roasted  a  pig,  whereupon 
the  dainty  meat  was  tasted  and  its  fame 
spread  abroad  until  epicures  all  over  China 
were  to  be  seen  carrying  home  pigs  and 
forthwith  setting  fire  to  their  houses  ?  We 
need  but  add  that  the  custom  thus  estab- 
lished lasted  for  centuries,  during  which 
every  dinner  of  pig  involved  the  sacrifice  of 
a  homestead,  and  we  seem  to  have  a  close 
parody  upon  the  wastefulness  of  Nature,  or 
of  what  is  otherwise  called  in  these  days 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  77 

the  Cosmic  Process.  Upon  such  a  view 
as  this  the  Cosmic  Process  appears  in  a 
high  degree  unintelligent,  not  to  say  im- 
moral. 


Ill 


Caliban's  Philosophy 

OLYTHEISM  easily  found  a  place 
for  such  views  as  these,  inasmuch 
as  it  could  explain  the  unseemly 
aspects  of  Nature  offhand  by  a  reference  to 
malevolent  deities.  With  Browning's  Cali- 
ban, in  his  meditations  upon  Setebos,  that 
god  whom  he  conceived  in  his  own  image, 
the  recklessness  of  Nature  is  mockery  en- 
gendered half  in  spite,  half  in  mere  wanton- 
ness. Setebos,  he  says, 

"  is  strong  and  Lord, 

Am  strong  myself  compared  to  yonder  crabs 
That  march  now  from  the  mountain  to  the  sea ; 
Let  twenty  pass,  and  stone  the  twenty -first, 
Loving  not,  hating  not,  just  choosing  so. 
Say,  the  first  straggler  that  boasts  purple  spots 
Shall  join  the  file,  one  pincer  twisted  off ; 
Say,  this  bruised  fellow  shall  receive  a  worm, 
And  two  worms  he  whose  nippers  end  in  red; 
As  it  likes  me  each  time,  I  do :  So  He." 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  73 

Such  is  the  kind  of  philosophy  that  com- 
mends itself  to  the  beastly  Caliban,  as  he 
sprawls  in  the  mire  with  small  eft  things 
creeping  down  his  back.  His  half-fledged 
mind  can  conceive  no  higher  principle  of 
action  —  nothing  more  artistic,  nothing 
more  masterful  —  than  wanton  mockery, 
and  naturally  he  attributes  it  to  his  God ; 
it  is  for  him  a  sufficient  explanation  of  that 
little  fragment  of  the  Cosmic  Process  with 
which  he  comes  into  contact. 


IV 

Can  it  be  that  the  Cosmic  Process  has  no 
Relation  to  Moral  Ends  ? 

UT  as  long  as  we  confine  our  at- 
tention to  the  universal  struggle 
for  life  and  the  survival  of  the  fit- 
test, without  certain  qualifications  presently 
to  be  mentioned,  it  is  difficult  for  the  most 
profound  intelligence  to  arrive  at  conclu- 
sions much  more  satisfactory  than  Cali- 
ban's. If  the  spirit  shown  in  Nature's 
works  as  thus  contemplated  is  not  one  of 
wanton  mockery,  it  seems  at  any  rate  to  be 
a  spirit  of  stolid  indifference.  It  indicates 
a  Blind  Force  rather  than  a  Beneficent 
Wisdom  at  the  source  of  things.  It  is  in 
some  such  mood  as  this  that  Huxley  tells 
us,  in  his  famous  address  delivered  at  Ox- 
ford, in  1893,  that  there  is  no  sanction  for 
morality  in  the  Cosmic  Process.  "  Men  in 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  75 

society,"  he  says,  "are  undoubtedly  subject 
to  the  cosmic  process.  As  among  other 
animals,  multiplication  goes  on  without  ces- 
sation and  involves  severe  competition  for 
the  means  of  support.  The  struggle  for 
existence  tends  to  eliminate  those  less 
fitted  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  circum- 
stances of  their  existence.  The  strongest, 
the  most  self-assertive,  tend  to  tread  down 
the  weaker.  .  .  .  Social  progress  means  a 
checking  of  the  cosmic  process  at  every 
step  and  the  substitution  for  it  of  another, 
which  may  be  called  the  ethical  process; 
the  end  of  which  is  not  the  survival  of 
those  who  may  happen  to  be  the  fittest, 
in  respect  of  the  whole  of  the  conditions 
which  exist,  but  of  those  who  are  ethically 
the  best."  Again,  says  Huxley,  "let  us 
understand,  once  for  all,  that  the  ethical 
progress  of  society  depends,  not  on  imi- 
tating the  cosmic  process,  still  less  in  run- 
ning away  from  it,  but  in  combating  it." 
And  again  he  tells  us  that  while  the  moral 
sentiments  have  undoubtedly  been  evolved, 


76  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

yet  since  "  the  immoral  sentiments  have  no 
less  been  evolved,  there  is  so  far  as  much 
natural  sanction  for  the  one  as  for  the 
other."  And  yet  again,  "  the  cosmic  pro- 
cess has  no  sort  of  relation  to  moral  ends." 

When  these  statements  were  first  made 
they  were  received  with  surprise,  and  they 
have  since  called  forth-  much  comment,  for 
they  sound  like  a  retreat  from  the  position 
which  an  evolutionist  is  expected  to  hold. 
They  distinctly  assert  a  breach  of  continu- 
ity between  evolution  in  general  and  the 
evolution  of  Man  in  particular ;  and  thus 
they  have  carried  joy  to  the  hearts  of 
sundry  theologians,  of  the  sort  that  like  to 
regard  Man  as  an  infringer  upon  Nature. 
If  there  is  no  natural  sanction  for  morality, 
then  the  sanction  must  be  supernatural, 
and  forthwith  such  theologians  greet  Hux- 
ley as  an  ally ! 

They  are  mistaken,  however.  Huxley 
does  not  really  mean  to  assert  any  such 
breach  of  continuity  as  is  here  suggested. 
In  a  footnote  to  his  printed  address  he 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  77 

makes  a  qualification  which  really  cancels 
the  group  of  statements  I  have  quoted. 
"Of  course,"  says  Huxley,  "strictly  speak- 
ing, social  life  and  the  ethical  process,  in 
virtue  of  which  it  advances  toward  perfec- 
tion, are  part  and  parcel  of  the  general  pro- 
cess of  evolution."  Of  course  they  are; 
and  of  course  the  general  process  of  evo- 
lution is  the  cosmic  process,  it  is  Nature's 
way  of  doing  things.  But  when  my  dear 
Huxley  a  moment  ago  was  saying  that  the 
"  cosmic  process  has  no  sort  of  relation  to 
moral  ends,"  he  was  using  the  phrase  in  a 
more  restricted  sense ;  he  was  using  it  as 
equivalent  to  what  Darwin  called  "  natural 
selection,"  what  Spencer  called  "  survival  of 
the  fittest,"  which  is  only  one  part  of  the 
cosmic  process.  Now  most  assuredly  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest,  as  such,  has  no  sort  of 
relation  to  moral  ends.  Beauty  and  ugli- 
ness, virtue  and  vice,  are  all  alike  to  it. 
Side  by  side  with  the  exquisite  rose  flour- 
ishes the  hideous  tarantula,  and  in  too  many 
cases  the  villain's  chances  of  livelihood  are 


j8  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

better  than  the  saints.  As  I  said  a  while 
ago,  if  we  confine  our  attention  to  the 
survival  of  the  fittest  in  the  struggle  for 
existence,  we  are  not  likely  to  arrive  at 
conclusions  much  more  satisfactory  than 
Caliban's 

"  As  it  likes  me  each  time,  I  do :  So  He." 

In  such  a  universe  we  may  look  in  vain 
for  any  sanction  for  morality,  any  justifica- 
tion for  love  and  self-sacrifice ;  we  find  no 
hope  in  it,  no  consolation  ;  there  is  not 
even  dignity  in  it,  nothing  whatever  but 
resistless  all-producing  and  all-consuming 
energy. 

Such  a  universe,  however,  is  not  the  one 
in  which  we  live.  In  the  cosmic  process  of 
evolution,  whereof  our  individual  lives  are 
part  and  parcel,  there  are  other  agencies 
at  work  besides  natural  selection,  and  the 
story  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  far 
from  being  the  whole  story.  I  have  thus 
far  been  merely  stating  difficulties ;  it  is 
now  time  to  point  out  the  direction  in 
which  we  are  to  look  for  a  solution  of 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  jg 

them.  I  think  it  can  be  shown  that  the 
principles  of  morality  have  their  roots  in 
the  deepest  foundations  of  the  universe, 
that  the  cosmic  process  is  ethical  in  the 
profoundest  sense,  that  in  that  far-off  morn- 
ing of  the  world,  when  the  stars  sang  to- 
gether and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for 
joy,  the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice  and  disin- 
terested love  formed  the  chief  burden  of 
the  mighty  theme. 


First  Stages  in  the  Genesis  of  Man 


ET  us  begin  by  drawing  a  correct 
though  slight  outline  sketch  of 
what  the  cosmic  process  of  evolu- 
tion has  been.  It  is  not  strange  that  when 
biologists  speak  of  evolution  they  should 
often  or  usually  have  in  mind  simply  the 
modifications  wrought  in  plants  and  animals 
by  means  of  natural  selection.  For  it  was 
by  calling  attention  to  such  modifications 
that  Darwin  discovered  a  true  cause  of  the 
origin  of  species  by  physiological  descent 
from  allied  species.  Thus  was  demon- 
strated the  fact  of  evolution  in  its  most 
important  province  ;  men  of  science  were 
convinced  that  the  higher  forms  of  life  are 
derived  from  lower  forms,  and  the  old  no- 
tion of  special  creations  was  exploded  once 
and  forever.  This  was  a  great  scientific 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  81 

achievement,  one  of  the  greatest  known  to 
history,  and  it  is  therefore  not  strange  that 
language  should  often  be  employed  as  if 
Evolutionism  and  Darwinism  were  synony- 
mous. Yet  not  only  are  there  extensive 
regions  in  the  doctrine  of  evolution  about 
which  Darwin  knew  very  little,  but  even  as 
regards  the  genesis  of  species  his  theory 
was  never  developed  in  his  own  hands  so 
far  as  to  account  satisfactorily  for  the  gen- 
esis of  man. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  while  the 
natural  selection  of  physical  variations  will 
go  far  toward  explaining  the  characteristics 
of  all  the  plants  and  all  the  beasts  in  the 
world,  it  remains  powerless  to  account  for 
the  existence  of  man.  Natural  selection 
of  physical  variations  might  go  on  for  a 
dozen  eternities  without  any  other  visible 
result  than  new  forms  of  plant  and  beast  in 
endless  and  meaningless  succession.  The 
physical  variations  by  which  man  is  dis- 
tinguished from  apes  are  not  great.  His 
physical  relationship  with  the  ape  is  closer 


82  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

than  that  between  cat  and  dog,  which  be- 
long to  different  families  of  the  same  order ; 
it  is  more  like  that  between  cat  and  leopard, 
or  between  dog  and  fox,  different  genera  in 
the  same  family.  But  the  moment  we  con- 
sider the  minds  of  man  and  ape,  the  gap 
between  the  two  is  immeasurable.  Mr. 
Mivart  has  truly  said  that,  with  regard  to 
their  total  value  in  nature,  the  difference 
between  man  and  ape  transcends  the  dif- 
ference between  ape  and  blade  of  grass.  I 
should  be  disposed  to  go  further  and  say, 
ttiat  while  for  zoological  man  you  can  hardly 
erect  a  distinct  family  from  that  of  the 
chimpanzee  and  orang,  on  the  other  hand, 
for  psychological  man  you  must  erect  a  dis- 
tinct kingdom  ;  nay,  you  must  even  dichot- 
omize the  universe,  putting  Man  on  one 
side  and  all  things  else  on  the  other.  How 
can  this  overwhelming  contrast  between 
psychical  and  physical  difference  be  ac- 
counted for?  The  clue  was  furnished  by 
Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  the  illustrious  co- 
discoverer  of  natural  selection.  Wallace 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  83 

saw  that  along  with  the  general  develop- 
ment of  mammalian  intelligence  a  point 
must  have  been  reached  in  the  history  of 
one  of  the  primates,  when  variations  of  in- 
telligence were  more  profitable  to  him  than 
variations  in  body.  From  that  time  forth 
that  primate's  intelligence  went  on  by  slow 
increments  acquiring  new  capacity,  while 
his  body  changed  but  little.  When  once 
he  could  strike  fire,  and  chip  a  flint,  and 
use  a  club,  and  strip  off  the  bear's  hide  to 
cover  himself,  there  was  clearly  no  further 
use  in  thickening  his  own  hide,  or  length- 
ening and  sharpening  his  claws.  Natural 
selection  is  the  keenest  capitalist  in  the 
universe ;  she  never  loses  an  instant  in 
seizing  the  most  profitable  place  for  invest- 
ment, and  her  judgment  is  never  at  fault. 
Forthwith,  for  a  million  years  or  more  she 
invested  all  her  capital  in  the  psychical 
variations  of  this  favoured  primate,  making 
little  change  in  his  body  except  so  far  as  to 
aid  in  the  general  result,  until  by  and  by 
something  like  human  intelligence  of  a  low 


84  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

grade,  like  that  of  the  Australian  or  the 
Andaman  islander,  was  achieved.  The 
genesis  of  humanity  was  by  no  means  yet 
completed,  but  an  enormous  gulf  had  been 
crossed. 

After  throwing  out  this  luminous  sugges- 
tion Mr.  Wallace  never  followed  it  up  as  it 
admitted  and  deserved.  It  is  too  much  to 
expect  one  man  to  do  everything,  and  his 
splendid  studies  in  the  geographical  distri- 
bution of  organisms  may  well  have  left  him 
little  time  for  work  in  this  direction.  Who 
can  fail  to  see  that  the  selection  of  psy- 
chical variations,  to  the  comparative  neg- 
lect of  physical  variations,  was  the  opening 
of  a  new  and  greater  act  in  the  drama  of 
creation  ?  Since  that  new  departure  the 
Creator's  highest  work  has  consisted  not 
in  bringing  forth  new  types  of  body,  but  in 
expanding  and  perfecting  the  psychical  at- 
tributes of  the  one  creature  in  whose  life 
those  attributes  have  begun  to  acquire  pre- 
dominance. Along  this  human  line  of  as- 
cent there  is  no  occasion  for  any  further 


Lome  and  Self-Sacrifice  85 

genesis  of  species,  all  future  progress  must 
continue  to  be  not  zoological,  but  psycho- 
logical, organic  evolution  gives  place  to 
civilization.  Thus  in  the  long  series  of 
organic  beings  Man  is  the  last ;  the  cosmic 
process,  having  once  evolved  this  master- 
piece, could  thenceforth  do  nothing  better 
than  to  perfect  him. 


VI 


The  Central  Fact  in  the  Genesis  of  Man 

HIS  conclusion,  which  follows  irre- 
sistibly from  Wallace's  theorem, 
that  in  the  genesis  of  Humanity 
natural  selection  began  to  follow  a  new 
path,  already  throws  a  light  of  promise  over 
our  whole  subject,  like  the  rosy  dawn  of  a 
June  morning.  But  the  explanation  of  the 
genesis  of  Humanity  is  still  far  from  com- 
plete. If  we  compare  man  with  any  of  the 
higher  mammals,  such  as  dogs  and  horses 
and  apes,  we  are  struck  with  several  points 
of  difference  :  first,  the  greater  progressive- 
ness  of  man,  the  widening  of  the  interval 
by  which  one  generation  may  vary  from  its 
predecessor ;  secondly,  the  definite  grouping 
in  societies  based  on  more  or  less  perma- 
nent family  relationships,  instead  of  the  in- 
definite grouping  in  miscellaneous  herds  or 


Low  and  Self-Sacrifice  87 

packs ;  thirdly,  the  possession  of  articulate 
speech  ;  fonrtlily,  the  enormous  increase  in 
the  duration  of  infancy,  or  the  period  when 
parental  care  is  needed.  Twenty-four  years 
ago,  in  a  course  of  lectures  given  yonder  in 
Holden  Chapel,  I  showed  that  the  circum- 
stance last  named  is  the  fundamental  one, 
and  the  others  are  derivative.  It  is  the 
prolonged  infancy  that  has  caused  the  pro- 
gressiveness  and  the  grouping  into  definite 
societies,  while  the  development  of  language 
was  a  consequence  of  the  increasing  intelli- 
gence and  sociality  thus  caused.  In  the 
genesis  of  Humanity  the  central  fact  has 
been  the  increased  duration  of  infancy. 
Now,  can  we  assign  for  that  increased  dura- 
tion an  adequate  cause  ?  I  think  we  can. 
The  increase  of  intelligence  is  itself  such  a 
cause.  A  glance  at  the  animal  kingdom 
shows  us  no  such  thing  as  infancy  among 
the  lower  orders.  It  is  with  warm-blooded 
birds  and  mammals  that  the  phenomena 
of  infancy  and  the  correlative  parental  care 
really  begin. 


VII 


The  Chief  Cause  of  Man's  lengthened 
Infancy 

HE  reason  for  this  is  that  any  crea- 
ture's ability  to  perceive  and  to 
act  depends  upon  the  registration 
of  experiences  in  his  nerve-centres.  It  is 
either  individual  or  ancestral  experience  that 
is  thus  registered  ;  or,  strictly  speaking,  it 
is  both.  It  is  of  the  first  importance  that 
this  point  should  be  clearly  understood,  and 
therefore  a  few  words  of  elementary  ex- 
planation will  not  be  superfluous. 

When  you  learn  to  play  the  piano,  you 
gradually  establish  innumerable  associations 
between  printed  groups  of  notes  and  the 
corresponding  keys  on  the  key-board,  and 
you  also  train  the  fingers  to  execute  a  vast 
number  of  rapid  and  complicated  motions. 
The  process  is  full  of  difficulty,  and  involves 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  8g 

endless  repetition.  After  some  years  per- 
haps you  can  play  at  sight  and  with  almost 
automatic  ease  a  polonaise  of  Liszt  or  a 
ballad  of  Chopin.  Now  this  result  is  pos- 
sible only  because  of  a  bodily  change  which 
has  taken  place  in  you.  Countless  molec- 
ular alterations  have  been  wrought  in  the 
structure  of  sundry  nerves  and  muscles, 
especially  in  the  gray  matter  of  sundry  gan- 
glia, or  nerve-centres.  Every  ganglion  con- 
cerned in  the  needful  adjustments  of  eyes 
and  fingers  and  wrists,  or  in  the  perception 
of  musical  sounds,  has  undergone  a  change 
more  or  less  profound.  The  nature  of  the 
change  is  largely  a  matter  of  speculation ; 
but  that  point  need  not  in  any  way  concern 
us.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  there 
is  such  a  change,  and  that  it  is  a  registra- 
tion of  experiences.  The  pianist  has  regis- 
tered in  the  intimate  structure  of  his  ner- 
vous system  a  world  of  experiences  entirely 
foreign  to  persons  unfamiliar  with  the  piano ; 
and  upon  this  registration  his  capacity  de- 
pends. 


go  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

Now  the  same  explanation  applies  to  all 
bodily  movements  whatever,  whether  com- 
plicated or  simple.  In  writing,  in  walking, 
in  talking,  we  are  making  use  of  nervous 
registrations  that  have  been  brought  about 
by  an  accumulation  of  experiences.  To  pick 
up  a  pencil  from  the  table  may  seem  a  very 
simple  act,  yet  a  baby  cannot  do  it.  It  has 
been  made  possible  only  by  the  education 
of  the  eyes,  of  the  muscles  that  move  the 
eyes,  of  the  arm  and  hand,  and  of  the  nerve- 
centres  that  coordinate  one  group  of  move- 
ments with  another.  All  this  multiform 
education  has  consisted  in  a  gradual  regis- 
tration of  experiences.  In  like  manner  all 
the  actions  of  man  upon  the  world  about 
him  are  made  up  of  movements,  and  every 
such  movement  becomes  possible  only  when 
a  registration  is  effected  in  sundry  nerve- 
centres. 

But  this  is  not  the  whole  story.  The 
case  is  undoubtedly  the  same  with  those 
visceral  movements,  involuntary  and  in 
great  part  unconscious,  which  sustain  life ; 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  91 

the  beating  of  the  heart,  the  expansion  and 
contraction  of  the  lungs,  the  slight  changes 
of  calibre  in  the  blood-vessels,  even  the 
movements  of  secretion  that  take  place  in 
glands.  All  these  actions  are  governed  by 
nerves,  and  these  nerves  have  had  to  be 
educated  to  their  work.  This  education  has 
been  a  registration  of  experiences  chiefly 
ancestral,  throughout  an  enormous  past, 
practically  since  the  beginnings  of  verte- 
brate life. 

With  the  earlier  and  simpler  forms  of  ani- 
mal existence  these  visceral  movements  are 
the  only  ones,  or  almost  the  only  ones,  that 
have  to  be  made.  Presently  the  movements 
of  limbs  and  sense  organs  come  to  be  added, 
and  as  we  rise  in  the  animal  scale,  these 
movements  come  to  be  endlessly  various  and 
complex,  and  by  and  by  implicate  the  ner- 
vous system  more  and  more  deeply  in  com- 
plex acts  of  perception,  memory,  reasoning, 
and  volition.  Obviously,  therefore,  in  the 
development  of  the  individual  organism 
the  demands  of  the  nervous  system  upon 


92  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

the  vital  energies  concerned  in  growth  must 
come  to  be  of  paramount  importance,  and 
in  providing  for  them  the  entire  embryonic 
life  must  be  most  profoundly  and  variously 
affected.  Though  we  may  be  unable  to 
follow  the  processes  in  detail,  the  truth  of 
this  general  statement  is  plain  and  undeni- 
able. 

I  say,  then,  that  when  a  creature's  intelli- 
gence is  low,  and  its  experience  very  meagre, 
consisting  of  a  few  simple  perceptions  and 
acts  that  occur  throughout  life  with  mono- 
tonous regularity,  all  the  registration  of  this 
experience  gets  effected  in  the  nerve-centres 
of  its  offspring  before  birth,  and  they  come 
into  the  world  fully  equipped  for  the  battle 
of  life,  like  the  snapping  turtle,  which  snaps 
with  decisive  vigour  as  soon  as  it  emerges 
from  the  egg.  Nothing  is  left  plastic  to  be 
finished  after  birth,  and  so  the  life  of  each 
generation  is  almost  an  exact  repetition  of 
its  predecessor.  But  when  a  creature's  in- 
telligence is  high,  and  its  experience  varied 
and  complicated,  the  registration  of  all  this 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  93 

experience  in  the  nerve-centres  of  its  off- 
spring does  not  get  accomplished  before 
birth.  There  is  not  time  enough.  The 
most  important  registrations,  such  as  those 
needed  for  breathing  and  swallowing  and 
other  indispensable  acts,  are  fully  effected  ; 
others,  such  as  those  needed  for  handling 
and  walking,  are  but  partially  effected ; 
others,  such  as  those  involved  in  the  recog- 
nition of  creatures  not  important  as  ene- 
mies or  prey,  are  left  still  further  from 
completion.  Much  is  left  to  be  done  by 
individual  experience  after  birth.  The  ani- 
mal, when  first  born,  is  a  baby  dependent 
upon  its  mother's  care.  At  the  same  time 
its  intelligence  is  far  more  plastic,  and  it 
remains  far  more  teachable,  than  the  lower 
animal  that  has  no  babyhood.  Dogs  and 
horses,  lions  and  elephants,  often  increase 
in  sagacity  until  late  in  life ;  and  so  do 
apes,  which,  along  with  a  higher  intelligence 
than  any  other  dumb  animals,  have  a  much 
longer  babyhood. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  appreciate  the 


94  Low  and  Self-Sacrifice 

marvellous  beauty  of  Nature's  work  in  bring- 
ing Man  upon  the  scene.  Nowhere  is  there 
any  breach  of  continuity  in  the  cosmic  pro- 
cess. First  we  have  natural  selection  at 
work  throughout  the  organic  world,  bring- 
ing forth  millions  of  species  of  plant  and 
animal,  seizing  upon  every  advantage,  phy- 
sical or  mental,  that  enables  any  species 
to  survive  in  the  universal  struggle.  So 
far  as  any  outward  observer,  back  in  the 
Cretaceous  or  early  Eocene  periods,  could 
surmise,  this  sort  of  confusion  might  go  on 
forever.  But  all  at  once,  perhaps  some- 
where in  the  upper  Eocene  or  lower  Mio- 
cene, it  appears  that  among  the  primates, 
a  newly  developing  family  already  distin- 
guished for  prehensile  capabilities,  one 
genus  is  beginning  to  sustain  itself  more 
by  mental  craft  and  shiftiness  than  by  any 
physical  characteristic.  Forthwith  does 
natural  selection  seize  upon  any  and  every 
advantageous  variation  in  this  craft  and 
shiftiness,  until  this  favoured  genus  of  pri- 
mates, this  Homo  Alalus,  or  speechless 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  95 

man,  as  we  may  call  him,  becomes  pre- 
eminent for  sagacity,  as  the  mammoth  is 
preeminent  for  bulk,  or  the  giraffe  for 
length  of  neck. 


VIII 


Some  of  its  Effects 

N  doing  this,  natural  selection  has 
unlocked  a  door  and  let  in  a  new 
set  of  causal  agencies.  As  Homo 
Alalus  grows  in  intelligence  and  variety  of 
experience,  his  helpless  babyhood  becomes 
gradually  prolonged,  and  passes  not  into 
sudden  maturity,  but  into  a  more  or  less 
plastic  intermediate  period  of  youth.  In- 
dividual experience,  as  contrasted  with  an- 
cestral experience,  counts  for  much  more 
than  ever  before  in  shaping  his  actions,  and 
thus  he  begins  to  become  progressive.  He 
can  learn  many  more  new  ways  of  doing 
things  in  a  hundred  thousand  years  than 
any  other  creature  could  have  done  in  a 
much  longer  time.  Thus  the  rate  of  pro- 
gress is  enhanced,  the  increasing  intelli- 
gence of  Homo  Alalus  further  lengthens 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  97 

his  plastic  period  of  life,  and  this  in  turn 
further  increases  his  intelligence  and  em- 
phasizes his  individuality.  The  evidence  is 
abundant  that  Homo  Alalus,  like  his  simian 
cousins,  was  a  gregarious  creature,  and  it 
is  not  difficult  to  see  how,  with  increasing 
intelligence,  the  gestures  and  grunts  used 
in  the  horde  for  signalling  must  come  to  be 
clothed  with  added  associations  of  meaning, 
must  gradually  become  generalized  as  signs 
of  conceptions.  This  invention  of  spoken 
language,  the  first  invention  of  nascent 
humanity,  remains  to  this  day  its  most 
fruitful  invention.  Henceforth  ancestral 
experience  could  not  simply  be  transmitted 
through  its  inheritable  impress  upon  the 
nervous  system,  but  its  facts  and  lessons 
could  become  external  materials  and  instru- 
ments of  education.  Then  the  children  of 
Homo  Alalus,  no  longer  speechless,  began 
to  accumulate  a  fund  of  tradition,  which  in 
the  fulness  of  time  was  to  bloom  forth  in 
history  and  poetry,  in  science  and  theology. 
From  the  outset  the  acquisition  of  speech 


g8  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

must  greatly  have  increased  the  rate  of 
progress,  and  enhanced  the  rudimentary 
sociality. 

With  the  lengthening  of  infancy  the  pe- 
riod of  maternal  help  and  watchfulness 
must  have  lengthened  in  correspondence. 
Natural  selection  must  keep  those  two 
things  nicely  balanced,  or  the  species  would 
soon  become  extinct.  But  Homo  Alalus 
had  not  only  a  mother,  but  brethren  and 
sisters  ;  and  when  the  period  of  infancy  be- 
came sufficiently  long,  there  were  a  series 
of  Homunculi  Alali,  the  eldest  of  whom 
still  needed  more  or  less  care  while  the 
third  and  the  fourth  were  arriving  upon 
the  scene.  In  this  way  the  sentiment  of 
maternity  became  abiding.  The  cow  has 
strong  feelings  of  maternal  affection  for 
periods  of  a  few  weeks  at  a  time,  but  lapses 
into  indifference  and  probably  cannot  dis- 
tinguish her  grown-up  calves  as  sustaining 
any  nearer  relation  to  herself  than  other 
members  of  the  herd.  But  Femina  Alala, 
with  her  vastly  enlarged  intelligence,  is 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  gg 

called  upon  for  the  exercise  of  maternal 
affection  until  it  becomes  a  permanent 
part  of  her  nature.  In  the  same  group  of 
circumstances  begins  the  permanency  of 
the  marital  relation.  The  warrior -hunter 
grows  accustomed  to  defending  the  same 
wife  and  children  and  to  helping  them  in 
securing  food.  Cases  of  what  we  may  term 
wedlock,  arising  in  this  way,  occur  sporad- 
ically among  apes ;  its  thorough  establish- 
ment, however,  was  not  achieved  until  after 
the  genesis  of  Humanity  had  been  com- 
pleted in  most  other  respects.  The  elabo- 
rate researches  of  Westermarck  have  proved 
that  permanent  marriage  exists  even  among 
savages ;  it  did  not  prevail,  however,  until 
the  advanced  stage  of  culture  represented 
by  the  Aztecs  in  aboriginal  America  and 
the  Neolithic  peoples  of  ancient  Europe. 
As  for  strict  monogamy,  it  is  a  com- 
paratively late  achievement  of  civilization. 
What  the  increased  and  multiplied  dura- 
tion of  infancy  at  first  accomplished  was 
the  transformation  of  miscellaneous  hordes 


ioo  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

of  Homines  Alali  into  organized  clans  re- 
cognizing kinship  through  the  mother,  as 
exemplified  among  nearly  all  American 
Indians  when  observed  by  Europeans. 

Thus  by  gradual  stages  we  have  passed 
from  four-footed  existence  into  Human  So- 
ciety, and  once  more  I  would  emphasize 
the  fact  that  nowhere  do  we  find  any  breach 
of  continuity,  but  one  factor  sets  another 
in  operation,  which  in  turn  reacts  upon  the 
first,  and  so  on  in  a  marvellously  harmo- 
nious consensus.  Surely  if  there  is  any- 
where in  the  universe  a  story  matchless  for 
its  romantic  interest,  it  is  the  story  of  the 
genesis  of  Man,  now  that  we  are  at  length 
beginning  to  be  able  to  decipher  it.  We 
see  that  there  is  a  good  deal  more  in  it 
than  mere  natural  selection.  At  bottom, 
indeed,  it  is  all  a  process  of  survival  of  the 
fittest,  but  the  secondary  agencies  we  have 
been  considering  have  brought  us  to  a  point 
where  our  conception  of  the  Struggle  for 
Life  must  be  enlarged.  Out  of  the  mani- 
fold compounding  and  recompounding  of 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  101 

primordial  clans  have  come  the  nations  of 
mankind  in  various  degrees  of  civilization, 
but  already  in  the  clan  we  find  the  ethical 
process  at  work.  The  clan  has  a  code  of 
morals  well  adapted  to  the  conditions  amid 
which  it  exists.  There  is  an  ethical  senti- 
ment in  the  clan ;  its  members  have  duties 
toward  it ;  it  punishes  sundry  acts  even 
with  death,  and  rewards  or  extols  sundry 
other  acts.  We  are,  in  short,  in  an  ethical 
atmosphere,  crude  and  stifling,  doubtless, 
as  compared  with  that  of  a  modern  Chris- 
tian homestead,  but  still  unquestionably 
ethical. 


IX 


Origin  of  Moral  Ideas  and  Sentiments 

OW,  here  at  last,  in  encountering 
the  ethical  process  at  work,  have 
we  detected  a  breach  of  continu- 
ity ?  Has  the  moral  sentiment  been  flung 
in  from  outside,  or  is  it  a  natural  result  of 
the  cosmic  process  we  have  been  sketch- 
ing ?  Clearly  it  is  the  latter.  There  has 
been  no  breach  of  continuity.  When  the 
prolongation  of  infancy  produced  the  clan, 
there  naturally  arose  reciprocal  necessities 
of  behaviour  among  the  members  of  the 
clan,  its  mothers  and  children,  its  hunters 
and  warriors.  If  such  reciprocal  necessi- 
ties were  to  be  disregarded  the  clan  would 
dissolve,  and  dissolution  would  be  general 
destruction.  For,  bear  in  mind,  the  clan, 
when  once  evolved,  becomes  the  unit  whose 
preservation  is  henceforth  the  permanent 


Love  and  Self -Sacrifice  103 

necessity.  It  is  infancy  that  has  made  it 
so.  A  miscellaneous  horde,  with  brief  in- 
fancies for  its  younger  members,  may  sur- 
vive a  very  extensive  slaughter ;  but  in  a 
clan,  where  the  proportion  of  helpless  chil- 
dren is  much  greater,  and  a  considerable 
division  of  labour  between  nurses  and  war- 
riors has  become  established,  the  case  is 
different.  An  amount  of  degree  of  calam- 
ity sufficient  to  break  up  its  organization 
will  usually  mean  total  ruin.  Hence,  when 
Nature's  travail  has  at  length  brought  forth 
the  clan,  its  requirements  forthwith  become 
paramount,  and  each  member's  conduct 
from  babyhood  must  conform  to  them. 
Natural  selection  henceforth  invests  her 
chief  capital  in  the  enterprise  of  preserving 
the  clan.  In  that  primitive  social  unit  lie 
all  the  potentiality  and  promise  of  Human 
Society  through  untold  future  ages.  So 
for  age  after  age  those  clans  in  which  the 
conduct  of  the  individuals  is  best  subordi- 
nated to  the  general  welfare  are  sure  to 
prevail  over  clans  in  which  the  subordina- 


104  kwt  an&  Self-Sacrifice 

tion  is  less  perfect.  As  the  maternal  in- 
stinct had  been  cultivated  for  thousands 
of  generations  before  clanship  came  into 
existence,  so  for  many  succeeding  ages  of 
turbulence  the  patriotic  instinct,  which 
prompts  to  the  defence  of  home,  was  culti- 
vated under  penalty  of  death.  Clans  de- 
fended by  weakly  loyal  or  cowardly  war- 
riors were  sure  to  perish.  Unflinching 
bravery  and  devoted  patriotism  were  virtues 
necessary  to  the  survival  of  the  community, 
and  were  thus  preserved  until  at  the  dawn 
of  historic  times,  in  the  most  grandly  mili- 
tant of  clan  societies,  we  find  the  word 
virtus  connoting  just  these  qualities,  and 
no  sooner  does  the  fateful  gulf  yawn  open 
in  the  forum  than  a  Curtius  joyfully  leaps 
into  it,  that  the  commonwealth  may  be 
preserved  from  harm. 

Now  the  moment  a  man's  voluntary  ac- 
tions are  determined  by  conscious  or  un- 
conscious reference  to  a  standard  outside 
of  himself  and  his  selfish  motives,  he  has 
entered  the  world  of  ethics,  he  has  begun 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  105 

to  live  in  a  moral  atmosphere.  Egoism  has 
ceased  to  be  all  in  all,  and  altruism  —  it  is 
an  ugly-sounding  word,  but  seems  to  be  the 
only  one  available  —  altruism  has  begun  to 
assert  its  claim  to  sovereignty.  In  the  ear- 
lier and  purely  animal  stages  of  existence 
it  was  right  enough  for  each  individual  to 
pursue  pleasure  and  avoid  pain  ;  it  did  not 
endanger  the  welfare  of  the  species,  but  on 
the  contrary  it  favoured  that  welfare ;  in  its 
origin  avoidance  of  pain  was  the  surest 
safeguard  for  the  perpetuation  of  life,  and 
with  due  qualifications  that  is  still  the  case. 
But  as  soon  as  sociality  became  established, 
and  Nature's  supreme  end  became  the 
maintenance  of  the  clan  organization,  the 
standard  for  the  individual's  conduct  be- 
came shifted,  permanently  and  forever 
shifted.  Limits  were  interposed  at  which 
pleasure  must  be  resigned  and  pain  en- 
dured, even  certain  death  encountered,  for 
the  sake  of  the  clan  ;  perhaps  the  individ- 
ual did  not  always  understand  it  in  that 
way,  but  at  all  events  it  was  for  the  sake 


io6  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

of  some  rule  recognized  in  the  clan,  some 
rule  which,  as  his  mother  and  all  his  kin 
had  from  his  earliest  childhood  inculcated 
upon  him,  ought  to  be  obeyed.  This  con- 
ception of  ought,  of  obligation,  of  duty,  of 
debt  to  something  outside  of  self,  resulted 
from  the  shifting  of  the  standard  of  con- 
duct outside  of  the  individual's  self.  Once 
thus  externalized,  objectivized,  the  ethical 
standard  demanded  homage  from  the  indi- 
vidual. It  furnished  the  rule  for  a  higher 
life  than  one  dictated  by  mere  selfishness. 
Speaking  after  the  manner  of  naturalists,  I 
here  use  the  phrase  "  higher  life "  advis- 
edly. It  was  the  kind  of  life  that  was 
conducive  to  the  preservation  and  further 
development  of  the  highest  form  of  animate 
existence  that  had  been  attained.  It  ap- 
pears to  me  that  we  begin  to  find  for  ethics 
the  most  tremendous  kind  of  sanction  in 
the  nature  of  the  cosmic  process. 

A  word  of  caution  may  be  needed.  It  is 
not  for  a  moment  to  be  supposed  that  when 
primitive  men  began  crudely  shaping  their 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

conduct  with  reference  to  a  standard  out- 
side of  self,  they  did  so  as  the  result  of 
meditation,  or  with  any  realizing  sense  of 
what  they  were  doing.  That  has  never 
been  the  method  of  evolution.  Its  results 
steal  upon  the  world  noiselessly  and  unob- 
served, and  only  after  they  have  long  been 
with  us  does  reason  employ  itself  upon 
them.  The  wolf  does  not  eat  the  lamb  be- 
cause he  regards  a  flesh  diet  as  necessary 
to  his  health  and  activity,  but  because  he  is 
hungry,  and,  like  Mr.  Harold  Skimpole,  he 
likes  lamb.  It  was  no  intellectual  'percep- 
tion of  needs  and  consequences  that  length- 
ened the  maternal  instinct  with  primeval 
mothers  as  the  period  of  infancy  length- 
ened. Nor  was  it  any  such  intellectual 
perception  that  began  to  enthrone  "  I 
ought"  in  the  place  of  "I  wish."  If  in 
the  world's  recurrent  crises  Nature  had 
waited  to  be  served  by  the  flickering  lamp 
of  reason,  the  story  would  not  have  been 
what  it  is.  Her  method  has  been,  with  the 
advent  of  a  new  situation,  to  modify  the 


io8  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

existing  group  of  instincts ;  and  his  work 
she  will  not  let  be  slighted;  in  her  train 
follows  the  lictor  with  the  symbols  of  death, 
and  there  is  neither  pity  nor  relenting.  In 
the  primeval  warfare  between  clans,  those 
in  which  the  instincts  were  not  so  modified 
as  to  shift  the  standard  of  conduct  outside 
of  the  individual's  self  must  inevitably  have 
succumbed  and  perished  under  the  pressure 
of  those  in  which  the  instincts  had  begun 
to  experience  such  modification.  The 
moral  law  grew  up  in  the  world  not  because 
anybody  asked  for  it,  but  because  it  was 
needed  for  the  world's  work.  If  it  is  not  a 
product  of  the  cosmic  process,  it  would  be 
hard  to  find  anything  that  could  be  so 
called. 


The  Cosmic  Process  exists  purely  for  the  Sake 
of  Moral  Ends 


HAVE  not  undertaken  to  make 
my  outline  sketch  of  the  genesis  of 
Humanity  approach  to  complete- 
ness, but  only  to  present  enough  salient 
points  to  make  a  closely  connected  argu- 
ment in  showing  how  morality  is  evolved  in 
the  cosmic  process  and  sanctioned  by  it. 
In  a  more  complete  sketch  it  would  be 
necessary  to  say  something  about  the  gen- 
esis of  Religion.  One  of  the  most  inter- 
esting, and  in  my  opinion  one  of  the  most 
profoundly  significant,  facts  in  the  whole 
process  of  evolution  is  the  first  appearance 
of  religious  sentiment  at  very  nearly  the 
same  stage  at  which  the  moral  law  began  to 
grow  up.  To  the  differential  attributes  of 
Humanity  already  considered  there  needs 


no  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

to  be  added  the  possession  of  religious  sen- 
timent and  religious  ideas.  We  may  safely 
say  that  this  is  the  most  important  of  all 
the  distinctions  between  Man  and  other 
animals ;  for  to  say  so  is  simply  to  epito- 
mize the  whole  of  human  experience  as  re- 
corded in  history,  art,  and  literature.  Along 
with  the  rise  from  gregariousness  to  incipi- 
ent sociality,  along  with  the  first  stammer- 
ings of  articulate  speech,  along  with  the 
dawning  discrimination  between  right  and 
wrong,  came  the  earliest  feeble  groping 
toward  a  world  beyond  that  which  greets 
the  senses,  the  first  dim  recognition  of  the 
Spiritual  Power  that  is  revealed  in  and 
through  the  visible  and  palpable  realm  of 
nature.  And  universally  since  that  time 
the  notion  of  Ethics  has  been  inseparably, 
associated  with  the  notion  of  Religion,  and 
the  sanction  for  Ethics  has  been  held  to  be 
closely  related  with  the  world  beyond  phe* 
nomena.  There  are  philosophers  who 
maintain  that  with  the  further  progress  of 
enlightenment  this  close  relation  will  cease 


Low  and  Self-Sacrifice  in 

to  be  asserted,  that  Ethics  will  be  divorced 
from  Religion,  and  that  the  groping  of  the 
Human  Soul  after  its  God  will  be  condemned 
as  a  mere  survival  from  the  errors  of  primi- 
tive savagery,  a  vain  and  idle  reaching  out 
toward  a  world  of  mere  phantoms.  I  men- 
tion this  opinion  merely  to  express  unquali- 
fied and  total  dissent  from  it.  I  believe  it 
can  be  shown  that  one  of  the  strongest 
implications  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  is 
the  Everlasting  Reality  of  Religion. 

But  we  have  not  time  at  present  for  enter- 
ing upon  so  vast  a  subject.  Let  this  refer- 
ence suffice  to  show  that  it  has  not  been 
passed  over  or  forgotten  in  my  theory  of 
the  genesis  of  Humanity.  In  an  account 
of  the  evolution  of  the  religious  sentiment, 
its  first  appearance  as  coeval,  or  nearly  so, 
with  the  beginnings  of  the  ethical  process 
would  assume  great  importance.  We  have 
here  been  concerned  purely  with  the  ethi- 
cal process  itself,  which  we  have  found  to 
be  —  as  Huxley  truly  says  in  his  footnote 
—  part  and  parcel  of  the  general  process 


112  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

of  evolution.  Our  historical  survey  of  the 
genesis  of  Humanity  seems  to  show  very 
forcibly  that  a  society  of  Human  Souls 
living  in  conformity  to  a  perfect  Moral  Law 
is  the  end  toward  which,  ever  since  the 
time  when  our  solar  system  was  a  patch  of 
nebulous  vapour,  the  cosmic  process  has 
been  aiming.  After  our  cooling  planet  had 
become  the  seat  of  organic  life,  the  process 
of  natural  selection  went  on  for  long  ages 
seemingly,  but  not  really  at  random ;  for 
our  retrospect  shows  that  its  ultimate  ten- 
dency was  towards  singling  out  one  crea- 
ture and  exalting  his  intelligence. 

Now  we  have  seen  that  this  increase  of  in- 
telligence itself,  by  entailing  upon  Man  the 
helplessness  of  infancy,  led  directly  to  the 
production  of  those  social  conditions  that 
called  the  ethical  process  into  play  and  set 
it  actively  to  work.  Thus  we  may  see  the 
absurdity  of  trying  to  separate  the  moral 
nature  of  Man  from  the  rest  of  his  nature, 
and  to  assign  for  it  a  separate  and  inde- 
pendent history.  The  essential  solidarity 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

in  the  cosmic  process  will  admit  of  no 
such  fanciful  detachment  of  one  part  from 
another.  All  parts  are  involved  one  in 
another.  Again,  the  ethical  process  is  not 
only  part  and  parcel  of  the  cosmic  process, 
but  it  is  its  crown  and  consummation. 
Toward  the  spiritual  perfection  of  Hu- 
manity the  stupendous  momentum  of  the 
cosmic  process  has  all  along  been  .tending. 
That  spiritual  perfection  is  the  true  goal  of 
evolution,  the  divine  end  that  was  involved 
in  the  beginning.  When  Huxley  asks  us  to 
believe  that  "the  cosmic  process  has  no 
sort  of  relation  to  moral  ends,"  I  feel  like 
replying  with  the  question,  "  Does  not  the 
cosmic  process  exist  purely  for  the  sake  of 
moral  ends  ? "  Subtract  from  the  universe 
its  ethical  meaning,  and  nothing  remains 
but  an  unreal  phantom,  the  figment  of  false 
metaphysics.  . 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  position  from 
which  a  glimmer  of  light  is  thrown  upon 
some  of  the  dark  problems  connected  with 
the  moral  government  of  the  world.  We 


Low  and  Self-Sacrifice 

can  begin  to  see  why  misery  and  wrong- 
doing are  permitted  to  exist,  and  why  the 
creative  energy  advances  by  such  slow  and 
tortuous  methods  toward  the  fulfilment  of 
its  divine  purpose.  In  order  to  understand 
these  things,  we  must  ask,  What  is  the 
ultimate  goal  of  the  ethical  process  ?  Ac- 
cording to  the  utilitarian  philosophy  that 
goal  is  the  completion  of  human  happiness. 
But  this  interpretation  soon  refutes  itself. 
A  world  of  completed  happiness  might  well 
be  a  world  of  quiescence,  of  stagnation,  of 
automatism,  of  blankness  ;  the  dynamics  of 
evolution  would  have  no  place  in  it.  But 
suppose  we  say  that  the  ultimate  goal  of 
the  ethical  process  is  the  perfecting  of  hu- 
man character?  This  form  of  statement 
contains  far  more  than  the  other.  Con- 
summation of  happiness  is  a  natural  out- 
come of  the  perfecting  of  character,  but 
that  perfecting  can  be  achieved  only  through 
struggle,  through  discipline,  through  resist- 
ance. It  is  for  him  that  overcometh  that 
the  crown  of  life  is  reserved.  The  con- 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  7/5 

summate  product  of  a  world  of  evolution  is 
the  character  that  creates  happiness,  that  is 
replete  with  dynamic  possibilities  of  fresh 
life  and  activity  in  directions  forever  new. 
Such  a  character  is  the  reflected  image  of 
God,  and  in  it  are  contained  the  promise 
and  potency  of  life  everlasting. 

No  such  character  could  be  produced  by 
any  act  of  special  creation  in  a  garden  of 
Eden.  It  must  be  the  consummate  efflores- 
cence of  long  ages  of  evolution,  and  a  world 
of  evolution  is  necessarily  characterized  by 
slow  processes,  many  of  which  to  a  looker- 
on  seem  like  tentative  experiments,  with  an 
enormous  sacrifice  of  ephemeral  forms  of 
life.  Thus  while  the  Earth  Spirit  goes  on, 
unhasting,  yet  unresting,  weaving  in  the 
loom  of  Time  the  visible  garment  of  God, 
we  begin  to  see  that  even  what  look  like 
failures  and  blemishes  have  been  from  the 
outset  involved  in  the  accomplishment  of 
the  all-wise  and  all-holy  purpose,  the  per- 
fecting of  the  spiritual  Man  in  the  likeness 
of  his  Heavenly  Father. 


/ 1 6  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

These  points  will  receive  further  indi- 
rect illustration  as  we  complete  our  outline 
sketch  of  the  cosmic  process  in  the  past.  It 
is  self-evident  that  in  the  production  of  an 
ethical  character,  altruistic  feelings  and  im- 
pulses must  cooperate.  Let  us  look,  then, 
for  some  of  the  beginnings  of  altruism  in 
the  course  of  the  evolution  of  life. 


XI 


Maternity  and  the  Evolution  of  Altruism 

ROM  an  early  period  of  the  life- 
history  of  our  planet,  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  species  had  obviously 
become  quite  as  imperative  an  end  as  the 
preservation  of  individuals ;  one  is  at  first 
inclined  to  say  more  imperative,  but  if  we 
pause  long  enough  to  remember  that  total 
failure  to  preserve  individuals  would  be 
equivalent  to  immediate  extinction  of  the 
species,  we  see  that  the  one  requirement  is 
as  indispensable  as  the  other.  Individuals 
must  be  preserved,  and  the  struggle  for 
life  is  between  them  ;  species  must  be  pre- 
served, and  in  the  rivalry  those  have  the 
best  chance  in  which  the  offspring  are 
either  most  redundant  in  numbers  or  are 
best  cared  for.  In  plants  and  animals  of  all 
but  the  higher  types,  the  offspring  are  spores 


/ 1 8  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

or  seeds,  larvae  or  spawn,  or  self-maturing 
eggs.  In  the  absence  of  parental  care  the 
persistence  of  the  species  is  ensured  by  the 
enormous  number  of  such  offspring.  A 
single  codfish,  in  a  single  season,  will  lay 
six  million  eggs,  nearly  all  of  which  perish, 
of  course,  or  else  in  a  few  years  the  ocean 
could  not  hold  all  the  codfishes.  But  the 
prir/cess  in  the  Arabian  tale,  who  fought 
with  the  malignant  Jinni,  could  not  for  her 
life  pick  up  all  the  scattered  seeds  of  the 
pomegranate ;  and  in  like  manner  of  the 
codfish  eggs,  one  in  a  million  or  so  escapes 
and  the  species  is  maintained.  But  in 
the  highest  types  of  animal  life  in  birds 
and  mammals  —  with  their  four-chambered 
hearts,  completely  arterialized  blood,  and 
enhanced  consciousness  —  parental  care  be- 
comes effective  in  protecting  the  offspring, 
and  the  excessive  production  diminishes. 
With  birds,  the  necessity  of  maintaining  a 
high  temperature  for  the  eggs  leads  to  the 
building  of  nests,  to  a  division  of  labour  in 
the  securing  of  food,  to  the  development  of 


Lime  and  Self-Sacrifice  ng 

a  temporary  maternal  instinct,  and  to  con- 
jugal alliances  which  in  some  birds  last  for 
a  lifetime.  As  the  eggs  become  effectively 
guarded  the  number  diminishes,  till  instead 
of  millions  there  are  half  a  dozen.  When 
it  comes  to  her  more  valuable  products, 
Nature  is  not  such  a  reckless  squanderer 
after  all.  So  with  mammals,  for  the  most 
part  the  young  are  in  litters  of  half  a  dozen 
or  so ;  but  in  Man,  with  his  prolonged  and 
costly  infancy  parental  care  reaches  its 
highest  development  and  concentration  in 
rearing  children  one  by  one. 

From  the  dawn  of  life,  I  need  hardly  say, 
all  the  instincts  that  have  contributed  to 
the  preservation  of  offspring  must  have 
been  favoured  and  cultivated  by  natural 
selection,  and  in  many  cases  even  in  types 
of  life  very  remote  from  Humanity,  such 
instincts  have  prompted  to  very  different 
actions  from  such  as  would  flow  from  the 
mere  instinct  of  self-preservation.  If  you 
thrust  your  walking-stick  into  an  ant-heap, 
and  watch  the  wild  hurry  and  confusion  that 


12O  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

ensues  when  part  of  the  interior  is  laid 
bare,  you  will  see  that  all  the  workers  are 
busy  in  moving  the  larvae  into  places  of 
safety.  It  is  not  exactly  a  maternal  in- 
stinct, for  the  workers  are  not  mothers,  but 
it  is  an  altruistic  instinct  involving  acts  of 
self-devotion.  So  in  the  case  of  fish  that 
ascend  rivers  or  bays  at  spawning  time,  the 
actions  of  the  whole  shoal  are  determined 
by  a  temporarily  predominant  instinct  that 
tends  towards  an  altruistic  result.  In  these 
and  lower  grades  of  life  there  is  already 
something  at  work  besides  the  mere  strug- 
gle for  life  between  individuals  ;  there  is 
something  more  than  mere  contention  and 
slaughter ;  there  is  the  effort  towards  cher- 
ishing another  life  than  one's  own.  In 
these  regions  of  animate  existence  we 
catch  glimpses  of  the  cosmic  roots  of  love 
and  self-sacrifice.  For  the  simplest  and 
rudest  productions  of  Nature  mere  egoism 
might*  suffice,  but  to  the  achievement  of 
any  higher  aim  some  adumbration  of  altru- 
ism was  indispensable. 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  121 

Before  such  divine  things  as  love  and 
self -sacrifice  could  spring  up  from  their 
cosmic  roots  and  put  forth  their  efflores- 
cence, it  was  necessary  that  conscious  per- 
sonal relations  should  become  established 
between  mother  and  infant.  We  have  al- 
ready observed  the  critical  importance  of 
these  relations  in  the  earliest  stages  of 
the  evolution  of  human  society.  We  may 
now  add  that  the  relation  between  mother 
and  child  must  have  furnished  the  first 
occasion  for  the  sustained  and  regular  de- 
velopment of  the  altruistic  feelings.  The 
capacity  for  unselfish  devotion  called  forth 
in  that  relation  could  afterward  be  utilized 
in  the  conduct  of  individuals  not  thus  re- 
lated to  one  another. 

Of  all  kinds  of  altruism  the  mother's  was 
no  doubt  the  earliest ;  it  was  the  derivative 
source  from  which  all  other  kinds  were  by 
slow  degrees  developed.  In  the  evolution 
of  these  altruistic  feelings,  therefore,  — 
feelings  which  are  an  absolutely  indispen- 
sable constituent  in  the  process  of  ethical 


/22  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

development,  —  the  first  appearance  of  real 
maternity  was  an  epoch  of  most  profound 
interest  and  importance  in  the  history  of 
life  upon  the  earth. 

Now  maternity,  in  the  true  and  full  sense 
of  the  word,  is  something  which  was  not 
realized  until  a  comparatively  recent  stage  of 
the  earth's  history.  God's  highest  work  is 
never  perfected  save  in  the  fulness  of  time. 
For  countless  ages  there  were  parents  and 
offspring  before  the  slow  but  never  aimless 
or  wanton  cosmic  process  had  brought  into 
existence  the  conscious  personal  relation- 
ship between  mother  and  child.  Protection 
of  eggs  and  larvae  scarcely  suffices  for  the 
evolution  of  true  maternity ;  the  relation 
of  moth  to  caterpillar  is  certainly  very  far 
from  being  a  prototype  of  it.  What  spec- 
tacle could  be  more  dreary  than  that  of 
the  Jurassic  period,  with  its  lords  of  crea- 
tion, the  oviparous  dinosaurs,  crawling  or 
bounding  over  the  land,  splashing  amid  the 
mighty  waters,  whizzing  bat-like  through 
the  air,  horrible  brutes  innumerable,  with 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  123 

bulky  bodies  and  tiny  brains,  clumsy,  coarse 
in  fibre,  and  cold-blooded. 

"  Dragons  of  the  prime, 
That  tare  each  other  in  their  slime." 

The  remnants  of  that  far-off  dismal  age 
have  been  left  behind  in  great  abundance, 
and  from  them  we  can  easily  reconstruct 
the  loathsome  picture  of  a  world  of  domi- 
nating egoism,  whose  redemption  through 
the  evolution  of  true  maternity  had  not 
yet  effectively  begun.  For  such  a  world 
might  Caliban's  theology  indeed  seem  fitted. 
Nearly  nine  tenths  of  our  planet's  past  life- 
history,  measured  in  duration,  had  passed 
away  without  achieving  any  higher  result 
than  this,  —  a  fact  which  for  impatient  re- 
formers may  have  in  it  some  crumbs  of 
consolation. 

For,  though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly, 
the  cosmic  process  was  aiming  at  something 
better  than  egoism  and  dinosaurs,  and  at 
some  time  during  the  long  period  of  the 
Chalk  deposits  there  began  the  tremendous 
world-wide  rivalry  between  these  dragons 


124  Love  and  Self -Sacrifice 

and  the  rising  class  of  warm-blooded  vivip- 
arous mammals  which  had  hitherto  played 
an  insignificant  part  in  the  world.  The 
very  name  of  this  class  of  animals  is  taken 
from  the  function  of  motherhood.  The  off- 
spring of  these  "mammas"  come  into  the 
world  as  recognizable  personalities,  so  far 
developed  that  the  relation  between  mother 
and  child  begins  as  a  relation  of  personal 
affection.  The  new-born  mammal  is  not 
an  egg  nor  a  caterpillar,  but  a  baby,  and 
the  baby's  dawning  consciousness  opens  up 
a  narrow  horizon  of  sympathy  and  tender- 
ness, a  horizon  of  which  the  expansion  shall 
in  due  course  of  ages  reveal  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth.  At  first  the  nascent  al- 
truism was  crude  enough,  but  it  must  have 
sufficed  to  make  mutual  understanding  and 
cooperation  more  possible  than  before ;  it 
thus  contributed  to  the  advancement  of 
mammalian  intelligence,  and  prepared  the 
way  for  gregariousness,  by  and  by  to  cul- 
minate in  sociality,  as  already  described. 
In  the  history  of  creation  the  mammals 


Love  and  Self -Sacrifice  125 

were  moderns,  equipped  with  more  effec- 
tive means  of  ensuring  survival  than  their 
oviparous  antagonists.  The  development  of 
complete  mammality  was  no  sudden  thing. 
Some  of  the  dinosaurs  may  have  been  ovo- 
viviparous,  like  some  modern  serpents. 
The  Australian  duck-bill,  a  relic  of  the 
most  ancient  incipient  mammality,  is  still 
oviparous ;  the  opossum  and  kangaroo  pre- 
serve the  record  of  a  stage  when  vivipa- 
rousness  was  but  partially  achieved  ;  but 
with  the  advent  of  the  placental  mammals 
the  break  with  the  old  order  of  things  was 
complete. 

The  results  of  the  struggle  are  registered 
in  the  Eocene  rocks.  The  ancient  world 
had  found  its  Waterloo.  Gone  were  the 
dragons  whp  so  long  had  lorded  it  over 
both  hemispheres,  —  brontosaurs,  iguano- 
dons,  plesiosaurs,  laelaps,  pterodactyls,  — 
all  gone;  their  uncouth  brood  quite  van- 
ished from  the  earth,  and  nothing  left  alive 
as  a  reminder,  save  a  few  degenerate  col- 
lateral kin,  such  as  snakes  and  crocodiles, 


/  2<5  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

objects  of  dread  and  loathing  to  higher 
creatures.  Never  in  the  history  of  our 
planet  has  there  been  a  more  sweeping 
victory  than  that  of  the  mammals,  nor  has 
Nature  had  any  further  occasion  for  vic- 
tories of  that  sort.  The  mammal  remains 
the  highest  type  of  animal  existence,  and 
subsequent  progress  has  been  shown  in 
the  perfecting  of  that  type  where  most  per- 
fectible. 


XII 

The  Omnipresent  Ethical  Trend 

ITH  the  evolution  of  true  maternity 
Nature  was  ready  to  proceed  to  her 
highest  grades  of  work.  Intelli- 
gence was  next  to  be  lifted  to  higher  levels, 
and  the  order  of  mammals  with  greatest 
prehensile  capacities,  the  primates  with 
their  incipient  hands,  were  the  most  favour- 
able subjects  in  which  to  carry  on  this  pro- 
cess. The  later  stages  of  the  marvellous 
story  we  have  already  passed  in  review. 
We  have  seen  the  accumulating  intelligence 
lengthen  the  period  of  infancy,  and  thus 
prolong  the  relations  of  loving  sympathy 
between  mother  and  child ;  we  have  seen 
the  human  family  and  human  society  thus 
brought  into  existence  ;  and  along  therewith 
we  have  recognized  the  necessity  laid  upon 
each  individual  for  conforming  his  conduct 


12.8  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

to  a  standard  external  to  himself.  At  this 
point,  without  encountering  any  breach  of 
continuity  in  the  cosmic  process,  we  crossed 
the  threshold  of  the  ethical  world,  and  en- 
tered a  region  where  civilization,  or  the 
gradual  perfecting  of  the  spiritual  qualities, 
is  henceforth  Nature's  paramount  aim.  To 
penetrate  further  into  this  region  would  be 
to  follow  the  progress  of  civilization,  while 
the  primitive  canoe  develops  into  the  Cunard 
steamship,  the  hieroglyphic  battle-sketch 
into  epics  and  dramas,  sun-catcher  myths 
into  the  Newtonian  astronomy,  wandering 
tribes  into  mighty  nations,  the  ethics  of  the 
clan  into  the  moral  law  for  all  men.  The 
story  shows  us  Man  becoming  more  and 
more  clearly  the  image  of  God,  exercising 
creative  attributes,  transforming  his  physi- 
cal environment,  incarnating  his  thoughts 
in  visible  and  tangible  shapes  all  over  the 
world,  and  extorting  from  the  abysses  of 
space  the  secrets  of  vanished  ages.  From 
lowly  beginnings,  without  breach  of  contin- 
uity, and  through  the  cumulative  action  of 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  129 

minute  and  inconspicuous  causes,  the  resist- 
less momentum  of  cosmic  events  has  tended 
toward  such  kind  of  consummation ;  and 
part  and  parcel  of  the  whole  process,  in- 
separably wrapped  up  with  every  other  part, 
has  been  the  evolution  of  the  sentiments 
which  tend  to  subordinate  mere  egoism  to 
unselfish  and  moral  ends. 

A  narrow  or  partial  survey  might  fail  to 
make  clear  the  solidarity  of  the  cosmic  pro- 
cess. But  the  history  of  creation,  when 
broadly  and  patiently  considered,  brings 
home  to  us  with  fresh  emphasis  the  pro- 
found truth  of  what  Emerson  once  said,  that 
"  the  lesson  of  life  ...  is  to  believe  what 
the  years  and  the  centuries  say  against  the 
hours  ;  to  resist  the  usurpation  of  partic- 
ulars ;  to  penetrate  to  their  catholic  sense." 
When  we  have  learned  this  lesson,  our  mis- 
givings vanish,  and  we  breathe  a  clear  atmo- 
sphere of  faith.  Though  in  many  ways  God's 
work  is  above  our  comprehension,  yet  those 
parts  of  the  world's  story  that  we  can  de- 
cipher well  warrant  the  belief  that  while  in 


Love  and  Self-Sacrifice 

Nature  there  may  be  divine  irony,  there  can 
be  no  such  thing  as  wanton  mockery,  for 
profoundly  underlying  the  surface  entangle- 
ment of  her  actions  we  may  discern  the 
omnipresent  ethical  trend.  The  moral  sen- 
timents, the  moral  law,  devotion  to  unself- 
ish ends,  disinterested  love,  nobility  of 
soul,  —  these  are  Nature's  most  highly 
wrought  products,  latest  in  coming  to  ma- 
turity ;  they  are  the  consummation,  toward 
which  all  earlier  prophecy  has  pointed. 
We  are  right,  then,  in  greeting  the  rejuve- 
nescent summer  with  devout  faith  and  hope. 
Below  the  surface  din  and  clashing  of  the 
struggle  for  life  we  hear  the  undertone  of 
the  deep  ethical  purpose,  as  it  rolls  in 
solemn  music  through  the  ages,  its  volume 
swelled  by  every  victory,  great  or  small,  of 
right  over  wrong,  till  in  the  fulness  of  time, 
in  God's  own  time,  it  shall  burst  forth  in 
the  triumphant  chorus  of  Humanity  purified 
and  redeemed. 


THE   EVERLASTING   REALITY 
OF   RELIGION 


Here  sits  he  shaping  wings  to  fly ; 
His  heart  forebodes  a  mystery : 
He  names  the  name  Eternity. 

That  type  of  Perfect  in  his  mind 
In  Nature  can  he  nowhere  find, 
He  sows  himself  on  every  wind. 

He  seems  to  hear  a  Heavenly  Friend, 
And  through  thick  veils  to  apprehend 
A  labour  working  to  an  end. 

TENNYSON,  The  Two  Voices. 


Deo  erexit  Voltaire" 


HE  visitor  to  Geneva  whose  studies 
have  made  him  duly  acquainted 
with  the  most  interesting  human 
personality  of  all  that  are  associated  with 
that  historic  city  will  never  leave  the  place 
without  making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  chateau 
of  Ferney.  In  that  refined  and  quiet  rural 
homestead  things  still  remain  very  much  as 

on  the  day  when  the  aged  Voltaire  left  it 

i 

for  the  last  visit  to  Paris,  where  his  long 
life  was  worthily  ended  amid  words  and 
deeds  of  affectionate  homage.  One  may 
sit  down  at  the  table  where  was  written  the 
most  perfect  prose,  perhaps,  that  ever  flowed 
from  pen,  and  look  about  the  little  room 
with  its  evidences  of  plain  living  and  high 
thinking,  until  one  seems  to  recall  the  eccen- 
tric figure  of  the  vanished  Master,  with  his 


Reality  of  Religion 

flashes  of  shrewd  wisdom  and  caustic  wit, 
his  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  his  con- 
suming hatred  of  bigotry  and  oppression, 
his  merciless  contempt  for  shams,  his  bound- 
less enthusiasm  of  humanity.  As  we  stroll 
in  the  park,  that  quaint  presence  goes  along 
with  us  till  all  at  once  in  a  shady  walk  we 
come  upon  something  highly  significant  and 
characteristic,  the  little  parish  church  with 
its  Latin  inscription  over  the  portal,  Deo 
erexit  Voltaire,  i.  e.  "Voltaire  built  it  for 
God,"  and  as  we  muse  upon  it,  the  piercing 
eyes  and  sardonic  but  not  unkindly  smile 
seem  still  to  follow  us.  What  meant  this 
eccentric  inscription  ? 

When  Voltaire  became  possessor  of  the 
manor  of  Ferney,  the  church  was  badly  out 
of  repair,  and  stood  where  it  obstructed  the 
view  from  certain  windows  of  the  chateau. 
So  he  had  it  cleared  away,  and  built  in  a 
better  spot  the  new  church  that  is  still 
there.  It  was  duly  consecrated,  and  the 
Pope  further  hallowed  it  with  some  relics 
of  ancient  saints,  and  there  for  many  a 


Reality  of  Religion  135 

year  the  tenants  and  dependents  of  the 
manor  assembled  for  divine  service.  No- 
where in  France  had  Voltaire  ever  seen  a 
church  dedicated  simply  to  God  ;  it  was 
always  to  Our  Lady  of  This  or  Saint  So- 
and-so  of  That ;  always  there  was  some  in- 
termediary between  the  devout  soul  and  the 
God  of  its  worship.  Not  thus  should  it  be 
with  Voltaire's  church,  built  upon  his  own 
estate  to  minister  to  the  spiritual  needs  of 
his  people.  It  should  be  dedicated  simply 
and  without  further  qualification  to  the  wor- 
ship and  service  of  God.  Furthermore,  it 
was  built  and  dedicated,  not  by  any  ecclesi- 
astical or  corporate  body,  but  by  the  lord  of 
that  manor,  the  individual  layman,  Voltaire. 
This,  I  say,  was  highly  characteristic  and 
significant.  It  gave  terse  and  pointed  ex- 
pression to  Voltaire's  way  of  looking  at 
such  things.  Church  and  theology  were 
ignored,  and  the  individual  soul  was  left 
alone  with  its  God.  The  Protestant  re- 
formers and  other  freethinkers  had  stopped 
far  short  of  this.  In  place  of  an  infallible 


/  36  Reality  of  Religion 

Church  they  had  left  an  infallible  Book  ;  if 
they  rejected  transubstantiation,  they  re- 
tained as  obligatory  such  doctrines  as  those 
of  the  incarnation  and  atonement  ;  if  they 
laughed  at  the  miracles  of  mediaeval  saints, 
they  would  allow  no  discredit  to  be  thrown 
upon  those  of  the  apostolic  age ;  in  short, 
they  left  standing  a  large  part,  if  not  the 
larger  part,  of  the  supernatural  edifice 
within  which  the  religious  mind  of  Europe 
had  so  long  been  sheltered.  But  Voltaire 
regarded  that  whole  supernatural  edifice  as 
so  much  rubbish  which  was  impeding  the 
free  development  of  the  human  mind,  and 
ought  as  quickly  as  possible  to  be  torn  to 
pieces  and  cleared  away.  His  emotions  as 
well  as  his  reason  were  concerned  in  this 
conclusion.  Organized  Christianity,  as  it 
then  existed  in  France,  was  responsible  for 
much  atrocious  injustice,  and  in  neighbour- 
ing lands  the  Inquisition  still  existed.  Ec- 
clesiastical bigotry,  the  prejudice  of  igno- 
rance, whatever  tended  to  hold  people  in 
darkness  and  restrain  them  from  the  free 


Reality  of  Religion 

and  natural  use  of  their  faculties,  Voltaire 
hated  with  all  the  intensity  of  which  he 
was  capable.  He  summed  it  all  up  in  one 
abstract  term  and  personified  it  as  "  The 
Infamous,"  and  the  watchword  of  that  life 
of  tireless  vigilance  was  "  Crush  the  In- 
famous !  "  Supernatural  theology  had  been 
too  often  pressed  into  the  service  of  "  The 
Infamous,"  and  for  supernatural  theology 
Voltaire  could  find  no  place  in  his  scheme 
of  things.  He  lost  no  chance  of  assailing 
it  with  mockery  and  sarcasm  made  terrible 
by  the  earnestness  of  his  purpose,  until  he 
came  in  many  quarters  to  be  regarded  as 
the  most  inveterate  antagonist  the  Church 
had  ever  known. 

Yet  among  the  great  men  of  letters  in 
France  contemporary  with  Voltaire,  the 
most  part  went  immeasurably  farther  than 
he,  and  went  in  a  different  direction  withal, 
for  they  denied  the  reality  of  Religion. 
Few  of  them,  indeed,  believed  in  the  exist- 
ence of  God,  or  would  have  had  anything 
to  do  with  building  a  house  of  worship. 


138  Reality  of  Religion 

It  is  related  of  David  Hume  that  when  din- 
ing once  in  a  party  of  eighteen  at  the  house 
of  Baron  d'Holbach,  he  expressed  a  doubt 
as  to  whether  any  person  could  anywhere 
be  found  to  avow  himself  dogmatically  an 
atheist.  "  Indeed,  my  dear  sir,"  quoth  the 
host,  "  you  are  this  moment  sitting  at  table 
with  seventeen  such  persons."  Among 
that  group  of  philosophers  were  men  of 
great  intelligence  and  lofty  purpose,  such 
as  D'Alembert,  Diderot,  Helv^tius,  Con- 
dorcet,  Buffon,  men  with  more  of  the  real 
spirit  of  Christianity  in  their  natures  than 
could  be  found  in  half  the  churches  of 
Christendom.  The  roots  of  their  atheism 
were  emotional  rather  than  philosophical. 
It  was  part  of  the  generous  but  rash  and 
superficial  impatience  with  which  they  dis- 
owned all  connection  whatever  with  a 
Church  that  had  become  subservient  to  so 
much  that  was  bad.  Their  atheism  was 
one  of  the  fruits  of  the  vicious  policy  which 
had  suppressed  Huguenotism  in  France ;  it 
was  an  early  instance  of  what  has  since 


Reality  of  Religion 

been  'often  observed,  that  materialism  and 
atheism  are  much  more  apt  to  flourish  in 
Romanist  than  in  Protestant  countries. 
The  form  of  religion  which  is  already  to 
some  extent  purified  and  rationalized  awak- 
ens no  such  violent  revulsion  in  free-think- 
ing minds  as  the  form  that  is  more  heavily 
encumbered  with  remnants  of  obsolete 
primitive  thought.  Moreover,  the  ration- 
alizing religion  of  Protestant  countries  is 
commonly  found  in  alliance  with  political 
freedom.  In  France  under  the  Old  Regime, 
the  Catholic  religion  was  stigmatized  as  an 
ally  of  despotism,  as  well  as  a  congeries  of 
absurd  doctrines  and  ceremonies.  The  best 
minds  felt  their  common  sense  shocked 
by  it  no  less  than  their  reason.  No  very 
deep  thinking  was  done  on  the  subject ; 
their  treatment  of  it  was  in  general  ex- 
tremely shallow. 

The  forms  which  religious  sentiment  had 
assumed  in  the  Middle  Ages  had  become 
unintelligible;  the  most  highly  endowed 
minds  were  dead  to  the  sublimity  of  Gothic 


140  Reality  of  Religion 

architecture,  and  saw  nothing  but  grotesque 
folly  in  Dante's  poetry.  They  seriously 
believed  that  religious  doctrines  and  eccle- 
siastical government  were  originally  elabo- 
rate systems  of  fraud,  devised  by  sagacious 
and  crafty  tyrants  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
enslaving  the  multitude  of  mankind.  No 
discrimination  was  shown.  They  were  as 
ready  to  throw  away  belief  in  God  as  in  the 
miracles  of  St.  Columba,  and  to  scout  at 
the  notion  of  a  future  life  in  the  same 
terms  as  those  in  which  they  denounced  the 
forged  donation  of  Constantine.  The  flip- 
pant ease  with  which  they  disposed  of  the 
greatest  questions,  in  crass  ignorance  of  the 
very  nature  of  the  problem  to  be  solved, 
was  well  illustrated  in  the  remark  of  the 
astronomer  Lalande,  that  he  had  swept  the 
entire  heavens  with  his  telescope  and  found 
no  God  there.  A  similar  instance  of  missing 
the  point  was  furnished  about  fifty  years 
ago  by  the  eminent  physiologist  Moleschott, 
when  he  exclaimed,  "No  thought  without 
phosphorus,"  and  congratulated  himself  that 


Reality  of  Religion  141 

he  had  forever  disposed  of  the  human  soul. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  those  are  the 
two  remarks  most  colossal  in  their  silliness 
that  ever  appeared  in  print. 

Very  different  in  spirit  was  the  acute 
reply  of  Laplace  when  reminded  by  Napo- 
leon that  his  great  treatise  on  the  dynam- 
ics of  the  solar  system  contained  no 
allusion  to  God.  "  Sire,"  said  Laplace,  "  I 
had  no  need  of  that  hypothesis."  This 
remark  was  profound  in  its  truth,  for  it 
meant  that  in  order  to  give  a  specific  ex- 
planation of  any  single  group  of  phenomena, 
it  will  not  do  to  appeal  to  divine  action, 
which  is  equally  the  source  of  all  pheno- 
mena. Science  can  deal  only  with  secon- 
dary causes.  In  the  eighteenth  century 
men  of  science  were  learning  that  such  is 
the  case ;  men  like  Diderot  and  D'Alembert 
had  come  to  realize  it,  and  they  believed 
that  the  logical  result  was  atheism.  This 
was  because  the  only  idea  of  God  which 
they  had  ever  been  taught  to  entertain  was 
the  Latin  idea  of  a  God  remote  from  the 


142  Reality  of  Religion 

world  and  manifested  only  through  occa- 
sional interferences  with  the  order  of  na- 
ture. When  they  dismissed  this  idea  they 
declared  themselves  atheists.  If  they  had 
been  familiar  with  the  Greek  idea  of  God 
as  immanent  in  the  world  and  manifested 
at  every  moment  through  the  orderly  se- 
quence of  its  phenomena,  their  conclusions 
would  doubtless  have  been  very  different. 

To  these  philosophers  Voltaire's  un- 
shaken theism  seemed  a  mere  bit  of  eccen- 
tric conservatism.  But  along  with  that 
queer  and  intensely  independent  personal- 
ity there  went  a  stronger  intellectual  grasp 
and  a  more  calm  intellectual  vision  than 
belonged  to  any  other  Frenchman  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  In  the  facts  of  Na- 
ture, despite  the  lifeless  piecemeal  fashion 
in  which  they  were  then  studied,  Voltaire 
saw  a  rational  principle  at  work  which  athe- 
ism could  in  nowise  account  for.  To  him 
the  universe  seemed  full  of  evidences  of 
beneficent  purpose,  and  more  than  once 
he  set  forth  with  eloquence  and  power  the 


Reality  of  Religion  143 

famous  argument  from  design,  which  is  as 
old  as  Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  and  which 
received  its  fullest  development  at  the 
hands  of  Paley  and  the  authors  of  the 
Bridgewater  Treatises.  There  is  thus  yet 
another  significance  added  to  the  little 
church  at  Ferney.  Not  only  was  it  the  sole 
church  in  France  dedicated  simply  to  God, 
and  not  only  was  its  builder  a  layman  hos- 
tile to  ecclesiastical  doctrines  and  methods, 
but  he  was  almost  alone  among  the  emi- 
nent freethinkers  of  his  age  and  country 
in  believing  in  God  and  asserting  the  ever- 
lasting reality  of  religion. 

It  is  therefore  that  I  have  cited  Voltaire 
as  a  kind  of  text  for  the  present  discourse ; 
for  it  is  my  purpose  to  show  that,  apart 
from  all  questions  of  revelation,  the  light 
of  nature  affords  us  sufficient  ground  for 
maintaining  that  religion  is  fundamentally 
true  and  must  endure  forever.  It  appears 
to  me,  moreover,  that  the  materialism  of 
the  present  day  is  merely  a  tradition  handed 
down  from  the  French  writers  whom  Vol- 


144  Reality  of  Religion 

taire  combated.  When  Moleschott  made 
his  silly  remark  about  phosphorus,  it  was 
simply  an  inheritance  of  silliness  from  La- 
lande.  When  Haeckel  tells  us  that  the 
doctrine  of  evolution  forbids  us  to  believe 
in  a  future  life,  it  is  not  because  he  has 
rationally  deduced  such  a  conclusion  from 
the  doctrine,  but  because  he  takes  his  opin- 
ions on  such  matters  ready-made  from  Lud- 
wig  Biichner,  who  is  simply  an  echo  of  the 
eighteenth  century  atheist  La  Mettrie.  We 
shall  see  that  the  doctrine  of  evolution 
has  implications  very  different  from  what 
Haeckel  supposes. 

But  first  let  me  observe  in  passing  that 
in  the  English-speaking  world  there  has 
never  been  any  such  divorce  between  ra- 
tionalism and  religion  as  in  France,  and 
among  the  glories  of  English  literature  are 
such  deeply  reverent  and  profoundly  philo- 
sophical writings  as  those  of  Hooker  and 
Chillingworth,  of  Bishop  Butler  and  Jona- 
than Edwards,  and  in  our  own  time  of  Dr. 
Martineau.  Nowhere  in  history,  perhaps, 


Reality  of  Religion  145 

have  faith  and  reason  been  more  harmo- 
niously wedded  together  than  in  the  his- 
tory of  English  Protestantism.  But  the 
disturbance  that  affected  France  in  the  age 
of  Voltaire  now  affects  the  whole  Christian 
world,  and  every  question  connected  with 
religion  has  been  probed  to  depths  of  which 
the  existence  was  scarcely  suspected  a  cen- 
tury ago.  One  seldom,  indeed,  hears  the 
frivolous  mockery  in  which  the  old  French 
writers  dealt  so  freely  ;  that  was  an  ebulli- 
tion of  temper  called  forth  by  a  tyranny 
that  had  come  to  be  a  social  nuisance. 
The  scepticism  of  our  day  is  rather  sad 
than  frivolous ;  it  drags  people  from  long 
cherished  notions  in  spite  of  themselves ;  it 
spares  but  few  that  are  active-minded ;  it 
invades  the  church,  and  does  not  stop  in 
the  pews  to  listen  but  ascends  the  pulpit 
and  preaches.  There  is  no  refuge  any- 
where from  this  doubting  and  testing  spirit 
of  the  age.  In  the  attitude  of  civilized  men 
towards  the  world  in  which  we  live,  the 
change  of  front  has  been  stupendous ;  the 


146  Reality  of  Religion 

old  cosmology  has  been  overthrown  in  head- 
long ruin,  attacks  upon  doctrines  have  mul- 
tiplied, and  rituals,  creeds,  and  Scriptures 
are  overhauled  and  criticised,  until  a  young 
generation  grows  up  knowing  nothing  of 
the  sturdy  faith  of  its  grandfathers  save  by 
hearsay  ;  for  it  sees  everything  in  heaven 
and  earth  called  upon  to  show  its  creden- 
tials. 


II 


The  Reign  of  Law,  and  the  Greek  Idea  of  God 

HE  general  effect  of  this  intellect- 
ual movement  has  been  to  discredit 
more  than  ever  before  the  Latin 
idea  of  God  as  a  power  outside  of  the  course 
of  nature  and  occasionally  interfering  with 
it.  In  all  directions  the  process  of  evolu- 
tion has  been  discovered,  working  after 
similar  methods,  and  this  has  forced  upon 
us  the  belief  in  the  Unity  of  Nature.  We 
are  thus  driven  to  the  Greek  conception  of 
God  as  the  power  working  in  and  through 
nature,  without  interference  or  infraction  of 
law.  The  element  of  chance,  which  some 
atheists  formerly  admitted  into  their  scheme 
of  things,  is  expelled.  Nobody  would  now 
waste  his  time  in  theorizing  about  a  for- 
tuitous concourse  of  atoms.  We  have  so 
far  spelled  out  the  history  of  creation  as  to 


148  Reality  of  Religion 

see  that  all  has  been  done  in  strict  accord- 
ance with  law.  The  method  has  been  the 
method  of  evolution,  and  the  more  we  study 
it  the  more  do  we  discern  in  it  intelligible 
coherence.  One  part  of  the  story  never 
gives  the  lie  to  another  part. 

So  beautiful  is  all  this  orderly  coherence, 
so  satisfying  to  some  of  our  intellectual 
needs,  that  many  minds  are  inclined  to 
doubt  if  anything  more  can  be  said  of  the 
universe  than  that  it  is  a  Reign  of  Law, 
an  endless  aggregate  of  coexistences  and 
sequences.  When  we  say  that  one  star 
attracts  another  star,  we  do  not  really  know 
that  there  is  any  pulling  in  the  case  ;  all  we 
know  is  that  a  piece  of  cosmical  matter  in 
the  presence  of  another  piece  of  matter 
alters  its  space-relations  in  a  certain  speci- 
fied way.  Among  the  coexistences  and 
sequences  there  is  an  order  which  we  can 
detect,  and  a  few  thinkers  are  inclined  to 
maintain  that  this  is  the  whole  story.  Such 
a  state  of  mind,  which  rests  satisfied  with 
the  mere  content  of  observed  facts,  without 


Reality  of  Religion  149 

seeking  to  trace  their  ultimate  implications, 
is  the  characteristic  of  what  Auguste  Comte 
called  Positivism.  It  is  a  more  refined 
phase  of  atheism  than  that  of  the  guests  at 
Baron  d'Holbach's,  but  its  adherents  are 
few ;  for  the  impetus  of  modern  scientific 
thought  tends  with  overwhelming  force 
towards  the  conception  of  a  single  First 
Cause,  or  Prime  Mover,  perpetually  mani- 
fested from  moment  to  moment  in  all  the 
Protean  changes  that  make  up  the  universe. 
As  I  have  elsewhere  sought  to  show,  this 
is  practically  identical  with  the  Athanasian 
conception  of  the  immanent  Deity.1  Mod- 
ern men  of  science  often  call  this  view  of 
things  Monism,  but  if  questioned  narrowly 
concerning  the  immanent  First  Cause,  they 
reply  with  a  general  disclaimer  of  know- 
ledge, and  thus  entitle  themselves  to 
be  called  by  Huxley's  term  "  Agnostics." 
Thirty-five  years  ago  Spencer,  taking  a  hint 
from  Sir  William  Hamilton,  used  the  phrase 

1  The  Idea  of  God  as  affected  by  Modern  Knowledge, 
Boston,  1885. 


750  Reality  of  Religion 

"The  Unknowable"  as  an  equivalent  for 
the  immanent  Deity  considered  per  se  ;  but 
I  always  avoid  that  phrase,  for  in  practice 
it  invariably  leads  to  wrong  conceptions, 
and  naturally,  since  it  only  expresses  one 
side  of  the  truth.  If  on  the  one  hand  it  is 
impossible  for  the  finite  Mind  to  fathom 
the  Infinite,  on  the  other  hand  it  is  prac- 
tically misleading  to  apply  the  term  Un- 
knowable to  the  Deity  that  is  revealed  in 
every  pulsation  of  the  wondrously  rich  and 
beautiful  life  of  the  Universe.  For  most 
persons  no  amount  of  explanation  will  pre- 
vent the  use  of  the  word  Unknowable  from 
seeming  to  remove  Deity  to  an  unapproach- 
able distance,  whereas  the  Deity  revealed 
in  the  process  of  evolution  is  the  ever-pre- 
sent God  without  whom  not  a  sparrow  falls 
to  the  ground,  and  whose  voice  is  heard  in 
each  whisper  of  conscience,  even  while  his 
splendour  dwells  in  the  white  ray  from  yon- 
der star  that  began  its  earthward  flight 
while  Abraham's  shepherds  watched  their 
flocks.  It  is  clear  that  many  persons  have 


Reality  of  Religion  151 

derived  from  Spencer's  use  of  the  word 
Unknowable  an  impression  that  he  intends 
by  means  of  metaphysics  to  refine  God 
away  into  nothing;  whereas  he  no  more 
cherishes  any  such  intention  than  did  St. 
Paul,  when  he  asked,  "Who  hath  known 
the  mind  of  the  Lord,  or  who  hath  been  his 
counsellor?" — no  more  than  Isaiah  did 
when  he  declared  that  even  as  the  heavens 
are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  Jehovah's 
ways  higher  than  our  ways  and  his  thoughts 
than  our  thoughts. 


Ill 


Weakness  of  Materialism 

UST  here  comes  along  the  materi- 
alist and  asks  us  some  questions, 
tries  to  serve  on  us  a  kind  of  meta- 
physical writ  of  quo  warranto.  If  modern 
physics  leads  us  inevitably  to  the  concep- 
tion of  a  single  infinite  Power  manifested 
in  all  the  phenomena  of  the  knowable  Uni- 
verse, by  what  authority  do  we  identify  that 
Power  with  the  indwelling  Deity  as  con- 
ceived by  St.  Athanasius  ?  The  Athanasian 
Deity  is  to  some  extent  fashioned  in  Man's 
image ;  he  is,  to  say  the  least,  like  the 
psychical  part  of  ourselves.  After  making 
all  possible  allowances  for  the  gulf  which 
separates  that  which  is  Infinite  and  Abso- 
lute from  that  which  is  Finite  and  Relative, 
an  essential  kinship  is  asserted  between 
God  and  the  Human  Soul.  By  what  au- 


Reality  of  Religion 

thority,  our  materialist  will  ask,  do  we  as- 
sert any  such  kinship  between  the  Human 
Soul  and  the  Power  which  modern  physics 
reveals  as  active  throughout  the  universe  ? 
Is  it  not  going  far  beyond  our  knowledge 
to  assert  any  such  kinship  ?  And  would  it 
not  be  more  modest  and  becoming  in  us  to 
simply  designate  this  ever  active  universal 
Power  by  some  purely  scientific  term,  such 
as  Force  ? 

This  argument  is  to-day  a  very  familiar 
one,  and  it  wears  a  plausible  aspect ;  it  is 
couched  in  a  spirit  of  scientific  reserve, 
which  wins  for  it  respectful  consideration. 
The  modest  and  cautious  spirit  of  science 
has  done  so  much  for  us,  that  it  is  always 
wise  to  give  due  heed  to  its  warnings.  Let 
us  beware  of  going  beyond  our  knowledge, 
says  the  materialist.  We  know  nothing 
but  phenomena  as  manifestations  of  an  in- 
dwelling force ;  nor  have  we  any  ground 
for  supposing  that  there  is  anything  psychi- 
cal, or  even  quasi-psychical,  in  the  universe 
outside  of  the  individual  minds  of  men  and 


Reality  of  Religion 

other  animals.  Moreover,  continues  the 
materialist,  the  psychical  phenomena  of 
which  we  are  conscious  —  reason,  memory, 
emotion,  volition  —  are  but  peculiarly  con- 
ditioned manifestations  of  the  same  indwell- 
ing force  which  under  other  conditions  ap- 
pears as  light  or  heat  or  electricity.  All 
such  manifestations  are  fleeting,  and  be- 
yond this  world  of  fleeting  phenomena  we 
have  no  warrant,  either  in  science  or  in 
common  sense,  for  supposing  that  anything 
whatever  exists.  This  world  that  is  cogni- 
zable through  the  senses  is  all  that  there 
is,  and  the  story  of  it  that  we  can  decipher 
by  the  aid  of  terrestrial  experience  is  the 
whole  story ;  the  Unseen  World  is  a  mere 
figment  inherited  from  the  untutored  fancy 
of  primeval  man.  Such  is  the  general  view 
of  things  which  Materialism  urges  upon 
us  with  the  plea  of  scientific  sobriety  and 
caution ;  and  to  many  minds,  as  already 
observed,  it  wears  a  plausible  aspect. 

Nevertheless,    when   subjected   to   criti- 
cism, this  theory  of  things  soon  loses  its 


Reality  of  Religion  755 

sober  and  plausible  appearance  and  is  seen 
to  be  eminently  rash  and  shallow.  In  the 
first  place,  there  is  no  such  correlation  or 
equivalence  as  is  alleged  between  physical 
forces  and  the  phenomena  of  consciousness. 
The  correlations  between  different  modes 
of  motion  have  been  proved  by  actual  quan- 
titative measurement,  and  never  could  have 
been  proved  in  any  other  way.  We  know, 
for  example,  that  heat  is  a  mode  of  motion  ; 
the  heat  that  will  raise  the  temperature  of 
a  pound  of  water  by  one  degree  of  Fahren- 
heit is  exactly  equivalent  to  the  motion  of 
772  pounds  falling  through  a  distance  of 
one  foot.  In  similar  wise  we  know  that 
light,  electricity,  and  magnetism  are  modes 
of  motion,  transferable  one  into  another; 
and,  although  precise  measurements  have 
not  been  accomplished,  there  is  no  reason 
for  doubting  that  the  changes  in  brain  tis- 
sue, which  accompany  each  thought  and 
feeling,  are  also  modes  of  motion,  trans- 
ferable into  the  other  physical  modes.  But 
thought  and  feeling  themselves,  which  can 


Reality  of  Religion 

neither  be  weighed  nor  measured,  do  not 
admit  of  being  resolved  into  modes  of  mo- 
tion. They  do  not  enter  into  the  closed 
circuit  of  physical  transformations,  but 
stand  forever  outside  of  it,  and  concentric 
with  that  segment  of  the  circuit  which 
passes  through  the  brain.  It  may  be  that 
thought  and  feeling  could  not  continue  to 
exist  if  that  physical  segment  of  the  circuit 
were  taken  away.  It  may  be  that  they 
could.  To  assume  that  they  could  not  is 
surely  the  height  of  rash  presumption. 
The  correlation  of  forces  exhibits  Mind  as 
in  nowise  a  product  of  Matter,  but  as  some- 
thing in  its  growth  and  manifestations  out- 
side and  parallel.  It  is  incompatible  with 
the  theory  that  the  relation  of  the  human 
soul  to  the  body  is  like  that  of  music  to  the 
harp ;  but  it  is  quite  compatible  with  the 
time-honoured  theory  of  the  human  soul  as 
indwelling  in  the  body  and  escaping  from 
it  at  death. 

In  the  second  place,  when  we  come  to 
the  denial  of  all  kinship  between  the  hu- 


Reality  of  Religion  757 

man  soul  and  the  Infinite  Power  that  is 
revealed  in  all  phenomena,  the  materialistic 
theory  raises  difficulties  as  great  as  those 
which  it  seeks  to  avoid.  The  difficulties 
which  it  wishes  to  avoid  are  those  which  in- 
evitably encumber  the  attempt  to  conceive 
of  Deity  as  Personality  exerting  volition 
and  cherishing  intelligent  purpose.  Such 
difficulties  are  undeniably  great ;  nay,  they 
are  insuperable.  When  we  speak  of  Intel- 
ligence and  Will  and  Personality,  we  must 
use  these  words  with  the  meanings  in  which 
experience  has  clothed  them,  or  we  shall 
soon  find  ourselves  talking  nonsense.  The 
only  intelligence  we  know  is  strictly  serial 
in  its  nature,  and  is  limited  by  the  exist- 
ence of  independent  objects  of  cognition. 
What  flight  of  analogy  can  bear  us  across 
the  gulf  that  divides  such  finite  intelligence 
from  that  unlimited  Knowledge  to  which 
all  things  past  and  future  are  ever  present  ? 
Volition,  as  we  know  it,  implies  alternative 
courses  of  action,  antecedent  motives,  and 
resulting  effort.  Like  intelligence,  its  op- 


/  58  Reality  of  Religion 

erations  are  serial.  What,  then,  do  we 
really  mean,  if  we  speak  of  omnipresent 
Volition  achieving  at  one  and  the  same  mo- 
ment an  infinite  variety  of  ends  ?  So,  too, 
with  Personality :  when  we  speak  of  per- 
sonality that  is  not  circumscribed  by  limits, 
are  we  not  using  language  from  which  all 
the  meaning  has  evaporated  ? 

Such  difficulties  are  insurmountable. 
Words  which  have  gained  their  meanings 
from  finite  experience  of  finite  objects  of 
thought  must  inevitably  falter  and  fail 
when  we  seek  to  apply  them  to  that  which 
is  Infinite.  But  we  do  not  mend  matters 
by  employing  terms  taken  from  the  inor- 
ganic world  rather  than  from  human  per- 
sonality. To  designate  the  universal  Power 
by  some  scientific  term,  such  as  Force,  does 
not  help  us  in  the  least.  All  our  experi- 
ence of  force  is  an  experience  of  finite 
forces  antagonized  by  other  forces.  We 
can  frame  no  conception  whatever  of  Infi- 
nite Force  comprising  within  itself  all  the 
myriad  antagonistic  attractions  and  repul- 


Reality  of  Religion  759 

sions  in  which  the  dynamic  universe  con- 
sists. We  go  beyond  our  knowledge  when 
we  speak  of  Infinite  Force  quite  as  much 
as  we  do  when  we  speak  of  Infinite  Person- 
ality. Indeed,  no  word  or  phrase  which  we 
seek  to  apply  to  Deity  can  be  other  than 
an  extremely  inadequate  and  unsatisfactory 
symbol.  From  the  very  nature  of  the  case 
it  must  always  be  so,  and  if  we  once  under- 
stand the  reason  why,  it  need  not  vex  or 
puzzle  us. 

It  is  not  only  when  we  try  to  speculate 
about  Deity  that  we  find  ourselves  encom- 
passed with  difficulties  and  are  made  to 
realize  how  very  short  is  our  mental  tether 
in  some  directions.  This  world,  in  its  com- 
monest aspects,  presents  many  baffling  pro- 
blems, of  which  it  is  sometimes  wholesome 
that  we  should  be  reminded.  If  you  look 
at  a  piece  of  iron,  it  seems  solid ;  it  looks 
as  if  its  particles  must  be  everywhere  in 
contact  with  one  another.  And  yet,  by 
hammering,  or  by  great  pressure,  or  by  in- 
tense cold,  the  piece  of  iron  may  be  com- 


160  Reality  of  Religion 

pressed,  so  that  it  will  occupy  less  space 
than  before.  Evidently,  then,  its  particles 
are  not  in  contact,  but  are  separated  from 
one  another  by  unoccupied  tracts  of  envel- 
oping space.  In  point  of  fact,  these  parti- 
cles are  atoms  arranged  after  a  complicated 
fashion  in  clusters  known  as  molecules. 
The  word  atom  means  something  that  can- 
not be  cut.  Now,  are  these  iron  atoms  di- 
visible or  indivisible  ?  If  they  are  divisible, 
then  what  of  the  parts  into  which  each  one 
can  be  divided ;  are  they  also  divisible  ? 
and  so  on  forever.  But  if  these  iron  atoms 
are  indivisible,  how  can  we  conceive  such  a 
thing  ?  -Can  we  imagine  two  sides  so  close 
together  that  no  plane  of  cleavage  could 
pass  between  them  ?  Can  we  imagine  co- 
hesive tenacity  too  great  to  be  overcome 
by  any  assignable  disruptive  force,  and 
therefore  infinite  ?  Suppose,  now,  we  heat 
this  piece  of  iron  to  a  white  heat.  Scien- 
tific inquiry  has  revealed  the  fact  that  its 
atom-clusters  are  floating  in  an  ocean  of 
ether,  in  which  are  also  floating  the  atom- 


Reality  of  Religion  161 

clusters  of  other  bodies  and  of  the  air  about 
us.  The  heating  is  the  increase  of  wave 
motion  in  this  ether,  until  presently  a  sec- 
ondary series  of  intensely  rapid  waves  ap- 
pear as  white  light.  Now  this  ether  would 
seem  to  be  of  infinite  rarity,  since  it  does 
not  affect  the  weight  of  bodies,  and  yet  its 
wave-motions  imply  an  elasticity  far  greater 
than  that  of  coiled  steel.  How  can  we  im- 
agine such  powerful  resilience  combined 
with  such  extreme  tenacity  ? 

These  are  a  few  of  the  difficulties  of  con- 
ception in  which  the  study  of  physical  sci- 
ence abounds,  and  I  cite  them  because  it  is 
wholesome  for  us  to  bear  in  mind  that  such 
difficulties  are  not  confined  to  theological 
subjects.  They  serve  to  show  how  our 
powers  of  conceiving  ideas  are  strictly  lim- 
ited by  the  nature  of  our  experience.  The 
illustration  just  cited  from  the  luminiferous 
ether  simply  shows  how  during  the  past 
century  the  study  of  radiant  forces  has  in- 
troduced us  to  a  mode  of  material  exist- 
ence quite  different  from  anything  that  had 


1 62  Reality  of  Religion 

formerly  been  known  or  suspected.  In  this 
mode  of  matter  we  find  attributes  united 
which  all  previous  experience  had  taught 
us  to  regard  as  contradictory  and  incom- 
patible. Yet  the  facts  cannot  be  denied ; 
hard  as  we  may  find  it  to  frame  the  con- 
ception, this  light-bearing  substance  is  at 
the  same  time  almost  infinitely  rare  and  al- 
most infinitely  resilient.  If  such  difficulties 
confront  us  upon  the  occasion  of  a  fresh 
extension  of  our  knowledge  of  the  physical 
world,  what  must  we  expect  when  we  come 
to  speculate  upon  the  nature  and  modes  of 
existence  of  God  ?  Bearing  this  in  mind, 
let  us  proceed  to  consider  the  assumption 
that  the  Infinite  Power  which  is  manifested 
in  the  universe  is  essentially  psychical  in  its 
nature ;  in  other  words,  that  between  God 
and  the  Human  Soul  there  is  real  kinship, 
although  we  may  be  unable  to  render  any 
scientific  account  of  it.  Let  us  consider 
this  assumption  historically,  and  in  the  light 
of  our  general  knowledge  of  Evolution. 


IV 

Religion's  First  Postulate :  the  Quasi-Human 
God 

T  is  with  purpose  that  I  use  the 
word  assumption.  As  a  matter  of 
history,  the  existence  of  a  quasi- 
human  God  has  always  been  an  assumption 
or  postulate.  It  is  something  which  men 
have  all  along  taken  for  granted.  It  prob- 
ably never  occurred  to  anybody  to  try  to 
prove  the  existence  of  such  a  God  until  it 
was  doubted,  and  doubts  on  that  subject 
are  very  modern.  Omitting  from  the  ac- 
count a  few  score  of  ingenious  philosophers, 
it  may  be  said  that  all  mankind,  the  wisest 
and  the  simplest,  have  taken  for  granted 
the  existence  of  a  Deity,  or  deities,  of  a 
psychical  nature  more  or  less  similar  to 
that  of  Humanity.  Such  a  postulate  has 
formed  a  part  of  all  human  thinking  from 


164  Reality  of  Religion 

primitive  ages  down  to  the  present  time. 
The  forms  in  which  it  has  appeared  have 
been  myriad  in  number,  but  all  have  been 
included  in  this  same  fundamental  assump- 
tion. The  earliest  forms  were  those  which 
we  call  fetishism  and  animism.  In  fetish- 
ism the  wind  that  blows  a  tree  down  is 
endowed  with  personality  and  supposed  to 
exert  conscious  effort ;  in  animism  some 
ghost  of  a  dead  man  is  animating  that  gust 
of  wind.  In  either  case  a  conscious  voli- 
tion similar  to  our  own,  but  outside  of  us, 
is  supposed  to  be  at  work.  There  has  been 
some  discussion  as  to  whether  fetishism  or 
animism  is  the  more  primitive,  and  some 
writers  would  regard  fetishism  as  a  special 
case  of  animism ;  but  it  is  not  necessary 
to  my  present  purpose  that  such  questions 
should  be  settled.  The  main  point  is  this, 
that  in  the  earliest  phases  of  theism  each 
operation  of  Nature  was  supposed  to  have 
some  quasi-human  personality  behind  it. 
Such  phases  we  find  among  contemporary 
savages,  and  there  is  abundant  evidence  of 


Reality  of  Religion  165 

their  former  existence  among  peoples  now 
civilized.  In  the  course  of  ages  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  generalizing  done.  Poseidon 
could  shake  the  land  and  preside  over  the 
sea,  angry  Apollo  could  shoot  arrows  tipped 
with  pestilence,  mischievous  Hermes  could 
play  pranks  in  the  summer  breezes,  while 
as  lord  over  all,  though  with  somewhat  fitful 
sway,  stood  Zeus  on  the  summit  of  Olym- 
pus, gathering  the  rain-clouds  and  wielding 
the  thunderbolt.  Nothing  but  increasing 
knowledge  of  nature  was  needed  to  convert 
such  Polytheism  into  Monotheism,  even  into 
the  strict  Monotheism  of  our  own  time,  in 
which  the  whole  universe  is  the  multiform 
manifestation  of  a  single  Deity  that  is  still 
regarded  as  in  some  real  and  true  sense 
quasi-human.  As  the  notion  of  Deity  has 
thus  been  gradually  generalized,  from  a 
thousand  local  gods  to  one  omnipresent 
God,  it  has  been  gradually  stripped  of  its 
grosser  anthropomorphic  vestments.  The 
tutelar  Deity  of  a  savage  clan  is  supposed 
to  share  with  his  devout  worshippers  in  the 


1 66  Reality  of  Religion 

cannibal  banquet ;  the  Gods  of  Olympus 
made  war  and  love,  and  were  moved  to  fits 
of  inextinguishable  laughter.  From  our 
modern  Monotheism  such  accidents  of  hu- 
manity are  eliminated,  but  the  notion  of  a 
kinship  between  God  and  man  remains,  and 
is  rightly  felt  to  be  essential  to  theism. 
Take  away  from  our  notion  of  God  the  hu- 
man element,  and  the  theism  instantly  van- 
ishes ;  it  ceases  to  be  a  notion  of  God.  We 
may  retain  an  abstract  symbol  to  which 
we  apply  some  such  epithet  as  Force,  or 
Energy,  or  Power,  but  there  is  nothing  the- 
istic  in  this.  Some  ingenious  philosopher 
may  try  to  persuade  us  to  the  contrary,  but 
the  Human  Soul  knows  better;  it  knows 
at  least  what  it  wants ;  it  has  asked  for 
Theology,  not  for  Dynamics,  and  it  resents 
all  such  attempts  to  palm  off  upon  it  stones 
for  bread. 

Our  philosopher  will  here  perhaps  lift  up 
his  hands  in  dismay  and  cry,  "  Hold  !  what 
matters  it  what  the  Human  Soul  wants  ? 
Are  cravings,  forsooth,  to  be  made  to  do 


Reality  of  Religion 

duty  as  reasons  ? "  It  is  proper  to  reply 
that  we  are  trying  to  deal  with  this  whole 
subject  after  the  manner  of  the  naturalist, 
which  is  to  describe  things  as  they  exist 
and  account  for  them  as  best  we  may.  I 
say,  then,  that  mankind  have  framed,  and 
for  long  ages  maintained,  a  notion  of  God 
into  which  there  enters  a  human  element. 
Now  if  it  should  ever  be  possible  to  abolish 
that  human  element,  it  would  not  be  pos- 
sible to  cheat  mankind  into  accepting  the 
non-human  remnant  of  the  notion  as  an 
equivalent  of  the  full  notion  of  which  they 
had  been  deprived.  Take  away  from  our 
symbolic  conception  of  God  the  human  ele- 
ment, and  that  aspect  of  theism  which  has 
from  the  outset  chiefly  interested  mankind 
is  gone. 


Religion's  Second  Postulate :  the  undying  Hu- 
man Soul 


HAT  supremely  interesting  aspect 
of  theism  belongs  to  it  as  part  and 
parcel  of  the  general  belief  in  an 
Unseen  World,  in  which  human  beings 
have  an  interest.  The  belief  in  the  per- 
sonal continuance  of  the  individual  human 
soul  after  death  is  a  very  ancient  one.  The 
savage  custom  of  burying  utensils  and 
trinkets  for  the  use  of  the  deceased  enables 
us  to  trace  it  back  into  the  Glacial  Period. 
We  may  safely  say  that  for  much  more 
than  a  hundred  thousand  years  mankind 
have  regarded  themselves  as  personally  in- 
terested in  two  worlds,  the  physical  world 
which  daily  greets  our  waking  senses, 
and  another  world,  comparatively  dim  and 
vaguely  outlined,  with  which  the  psychical 


Reality  of  Religion  169 

side  of  humanity  is  more  closely  connected. 
The  belief  in  the  Unseen  World  seems  to 
be  coextensive  with  theism  ;  the  animism 
of  the  lowest  savages  includes  both.  No 
race  or  tribe  of  men  has  ever  been  found 
destitute  of  the  belief  in  a  ghost-world. 
Now,  a  ghost-world  implies  the  personal 
continuance  of  human  beings  after  death, 
and  it  also  implies  identity  of  nature  be- 
tween the  ghosts  of  man  and  the  indwell- 
ing spirits  of  sun,  wind,  and  flood.  It  is 
chiefly  because  these  ideas  are  so  closely 
interwoven  in  savage  thought  that  it  is 
often  so  difficult  to  discriminate  between 
fetishism  and  animism.  These  savage  ideas 
are  of  course  extremely  crude  in  their  sym- 
bolism. With  the  gradual  civilization  of 
human  thinking,  the  refinement  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  Deity  is  paralleled  by  the 
refinement  in  the  conception  of  the  Other 
World.  From  Valhalla  to  Dante's  Para- 
dise, what  an  immeasurable  distance  the 
human  mind  has  travelled  !  In  our  modern 
Monotheism  the  assumption  of  kinship  be- 


i  "jo  Reality  of  Religion 

tween  God  and  the  Human  Soul  is  the  as- 
sumption that  there  is  in  Man  a  psychical 
element  identical  in  nature  with  that  which 
is  eternal.  Belief  in  a  quasi-human  God 
and  belief  in  the  Soul's  immortality  thus 
appear  in  their  origin  and  development,  as 
in  their  ultimate  significance,  to  be  insepa- 
rably connected.  They  are  part  and  parcel 
of  one  and  the  same  efflorescence  of  the 
human  mind.  Mankind  has  always  enter- 
tained them  in  common,  and  so  entertains 
them  now ;  and  were  it  possible  (which  it 
is  not)  for  science  to  disprove  the  Soul's 
immortality,  a  theism  deprived  of  this  ele- 
ment would  surely  never  be  accepted  as 
an  equivalent  for  the  theism  entertained 
before.  The  Positivist  argument  that  the 
only  worthy  immortality  is  survival  in  the 
grateful  remembrance  of  one's  fellow  crea- 
tures would  hardly  be  regarded  as  anything 
but  a  travesty  and  trick.  If  the  world's 
long  cherished  beliefs  are  to  fall,  in  God's 
name  let  them  fall,  but  save  us  from  the 
intellectual  hypocrisy  that  goes  about  pre- 
tending we  are  none  the  poorer ! 


VI 


Religion's  Third  Postulate  :  the  Ethical  Sig- 
nificance of  the  Unseen  World 

UR  account  of  the  rise  and  progress 
of  the  general  belief  in  an  Unseen 
World  is,  however,  not  yet  com- 
plete. No  mention  has  been  made  of  an 
element  which  apparently  has  always  been 
present  in  the  belief.  I  mean  the  ethical 
element.  The  savage's  primeval  ghost- 
world  is  always  mixed  up  with  his  childlike 
notions  of  what  he  ought  to  do  and  what 
he  ought  not  to  do.  The  native  of  Tierra 
del  Fuego,  who  foreboded  a  snowstorm 
because  one  of  Mr.  Darwin's  party  killed 
some  birds  for  specimens,  furnishes  an 
excellent  illustration.  In  a  tribe  living 
always  on  the  brink  of  starvation,  any  wan- 
ton sacrifice  of  meat  must  awaken  the 
wrath  of  the  tutelar  ancestral  ghost-deities 


ij2  Reality  of  Religion 

who  control  the  weather.  Notions  of  a  simi- 
lar sort  are  connected  with  the  direful  host 
of  omens  that  dog  the  savage's  footsteps 
through  the  world.  Whatever  conduct  the 
necessities  of  clan  or  tribe  have  prohibited 
soon  comes  to  wear  the  aspect  of  sacrilege. 
Thus  inextricably  intertwined  from  the 
moment  of  their  first  dim  dawning  upon  the 
consciousness  of  nascent  Humanity,  have 
been  the  notion  of  Deity,  the  notion  of  an 
Unseen  World,  and  the  notions  of  Right 
and  Wrong.  In  their  beginnings  theology 
and  ethics  were  inseparable ;  in  all  the  vast 
historic  development  of  religion  they  have 
remained  inseparable.  The  grotesque  con- 
ceptions of  primitive  men  have  given  place 
to  conceptions  framed  after  wider  and 
deeper  experience,  but  the  union  of  ethics 
with  theology  remains  undisturbed  even 
in  that  most  refined  religious  philosophy 
which  ventures  no  opinion  concerning  the 
happiness  or  misery  of  a  future  life,  except 
that  the  seed  sown  here  will  naturally  de- 
termine the  fruit  to  be  gathered  hereafter. 


Reality  of  Religion 

All  the  analogies  that  modern  knowledge 
can  bring  to  bear  upon  the  theory  of  a 
future  life  point  to  the  opinion  that  the 
breach  of  physical  continuity  is  not  accom- 
panied by  any  breach  of  ethical  continuity. 
Such  an  opinion  relating  to  matters  be- 
yond experience  cannot  of  course  be  called 
scientific,  but  whether  it  be  justifiable  or 
not,  my  point  is  that  neither  in  the  crude 
fancies  of  primitive  men  nor  in  the  most 
refined  modern  philosophy  can  theology 
divorce  itself  from  ethics.  Take  away  the 
ethical  significance  from  our  conceptions  of 
the  Unseen  World  and  the  quasi-human 
God,  and  no  element  of  significance  re- 
mains. All  that  was  vital  in  theism  is 
gone. 


VII 


Is  the  Substance  of  Religion  a  Phantom,  or  an 
Eternal  Reality  ? 

E  are  now  prepared  to  see  what  is 
involved  in  the  Reality  of  Reli- 
gion. Speaking  historically,  it  may 
be  said  that  Religion  has  always  had  two 
sides  :  on  the  one  side  it  has  consisted  of  a 
theory,  more  or  less  elaborate,  and  on  the 
other  side  it  has  consisted  of  a  group  of 
sentiments  conformable  to  the  theory. 
Now  in  all  ages  and  in  every  form  of  Reli- 
gion, the  theory  has  comprised  three  essen- 
tial elements :  first,  belief  in  Deity,  as 
quasi-human ;  secondly,  belief  in  an  Un- 
seen World  in  which  human  beings  con- 
tinue to  exist  after  death  ;  thirdly,  recogni- 
tion of  the  ethical  aspects  of  human  life  as 
related  in  a  special  and  intimate  sense  to 
this  Unseen  World.  These  three  elements 


Reality  of  Religion  775 

are  alike  indispensable.  If  any  one  of  the 
three  be  taken  away,  the  remnant  cannot 
properly  be  called  Religion.  Is  then  the 
subject-matter  of  Religion  something  real 
and  substantial,  or  is  it  a  mere  figment  of 
the  imagination  ?  Has  Religion  through 
all  these  weary  centuries  been  dealing  with 
an  eternal  verity,  or  has  it  been  blindly 
groping  after  a  phantom  ?  Can  that  his- 
tory of  the  universe  which  we  call  the  Doc- 
trine of  Evolution  be  made  to  furnish  any 
lesson  that  will  prove  helpful  in  answering 
this  question  ?  We  shall  find,  I  think,  that 
it  does  furnish  such  a  lesson. 

But  first  let  us  remember  that  along  with 
the  three  indispensable  elements  here  spe- 
cified, every  historic  Religion  has  also  con- 
tained a  quantity  of  cosmological  specula- 
tions, metaphysical  doctrines,  priestly  rites 
and  ceremonies  and  injunctions,  and  a  very 
considerable  part  of  this  structure  has  been 
demolished  by  modern  criticism.  The  de- 
struction of  beliefs  has  been  so  great  that 
we  can  hardly  think  it  strange  if  some 


/7<5  Reality  of  Religion 

critics  have  taken  it  into  their  heads  that 
nothing  can  be  rescued.  But  let  us  see 
what  the  doctrine  of  evolution  has  to  say. 
Our  inquiry  may  seem  to  take  us  very  far 
afield,  but  that  we  need  not  mind  if  we 
find  the  answer  by  and  by  directing  us 
homeward. 


VIII 


The  Fundamental  Aspect  of  Life 

OFTEN  think,  when  working  over 
my  plants,  of  what  Linnaeus  once 
said  of  the  unfolding  of  a  blossom  : 
"  I  saw  God  in  His  glory  passing  near  me, 
and  bowed  my  head  in  worship."  The  sci- 
entific aspect  of  the  same  thought  has  been 
put  into  words  by  Tennyson  :  — 

"  Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies, 
I  hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower,  —  but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is.'7 

No  deeper  thought  was  ever  uttered  by 
poet.  For  in  this  world  of  plants,  which 
with  its  magician  chlorophyll  conjuring 
with  sunbeams  is  ceaselessly  at  work  bring- 
ing life  out  of  death,  —  in  this  quiet  vege- 
table world  we  may  find  the  elementary 


Reality  of  Religion 

principles  of  all  life  in  almost  visible  opera- 
tion. It  is  one  of  these  elementary  princi- 
ples —  a  very  simple  and  broad  one  —  that 
here  concerns  us. 

One  of  the  greatest  contributions  ever 
made  to  scientific  knowledge  is  Herbert 
Spencer's  profound  and  luminous  exposi- 
tion of  Life  as  the  continuous  adjustment 
of  inner  relations  to  outer  relations.  The 
extreme  simplicity  of  the  subject  in  its 
earliest  illustrations  is  such  that  the  stu- 
dent at  first  hardly  suspects  the  wealth  of 
knowledge  toward  which  it  is  pointing  the 
way.  The  most  fundamental  characteristic 
of  living  things  is  their  response  to  external 
stimuli  If  you  come  upon  a  dog  lying  by 
the  roadside  and  are  in  doubt  whether  he 
is  alive  or  dead,  you  poke  him  with  a  stick ; 
if  you  get  no  response  you  presently  con- 
clude that  it  is  a  dead  dog.  So  if  the  tree 
fails  to  put  forth  leaves  in  response  to  the 
rising  vernal  temperature,  it  is  an  indication 
of  death.  Pour  water  on  a  drooping  plant, 
and  it  shows  its  life  by  rearing  its  head. 


Reality  of  Religion  \jg 

The  growth  of  a  plant  is  in  its  ultimate 
analysis  a  group  of  motions  put  forth  in 
adjustment  to  a  group  of  physical  and 
chemical  conditions  in  the  soil  and  atmos- 
phere. A  fine  illustration  is  the  spiral  dis- 
tribution of  leaves  about  the  stem,  at  dif- 
ferent angular  intervals  in  different  kinds  of 
plants,  but  always  so  arranged  as  to  ensure 
the  most  complete  exposure  of  the  chlo- 
rophyll to  the  sunbeams.  Every  feature 
of  the  plant  is  explicable  on  similar  prin- 
ciples. It  is  the  result  of  a  continuous 
adjustment  of  relations  within  the  plant  to 
relations  existing  outside  of  it.  It  is  im- 
portant that  we  should  form  a  clear  concep- 
tion of  this,  and  a  contrasted  instance  will 
help  us.  Take  one  of  those  storm-glasses 
in  which  the  approach  of  atmospheric  dis- 
turbance sets  up  a  feathery  crystallization 
that  changes  in  shape  and  distribution  as 
the  state  of  the  air  outside  changes.  Here 
is  something  that  simulates  vegetable  life, 
but  there  is  a  profound  difference.  In 
every  one  of  these  changes  the  liquid  in 


180  Reality  of  Religion 

the  storm-glass  is  passive ;  it  is  changed  and 
waits  until  it  is  changed  again.  But  in  the 
case  of  a  tree,  when  the  increased  supply 
of  solar  radiance  in  spring  causes  those  in- 
ternal motions  which  result  in  the  putting 
forth  of  leaves,  it  is  quite  another  affair. 
Here  the  external  change  sets  up  an  in- 
ternal change  which  leads  to  a  second  in- 
ternal change  that  anticipates  a  second 
external  change.  It  is  this  active  response 
that  is  the  mark  of  life. 

All  life  upon  the  globe,  whether  physical 
or  psychical,  represents  the  continuous  ad- 
justment of  inner  to  outer  relations.  The 
degree  of  life  is  low  or  high,  according  as 
the  correspondence  between  internal  and 
external  relations  is  simple  or  complex, 
limited  or  extensive,  partial  or  complete, 
perfect  or  imperfect.  The  relations  estab- 
lished within  a  plant  answer  only  to  the 
presence  or  absence  of  a  certain  quantity 
of  light  and  heat,  and  to  sundry  chemical 
and  physical  relations  in  atmosphere  and 
soil.  In  a  polyp,  besides  general  relations 


Reality  of  Religion  181 

similar  to  these,  certain  more  special  rela- 
tions are  established  in  correspondence 
with  the  eternal  existence  of  mechanical 
irritants  ;  as  when  its  tentacles  contract  oh 
being  touched.  The  increase  of  extension 
acquired  by  the  correspondences  as  we 
ascend  the  animal  scale  may  be  seen  by 
contrasting  the  polyp,  which  can  simply 
distinguish  between  soluble  and  insoluble 
matter,  or  between  opacity  and  translu- 
cence  in  its  environment,  with  the  keen- 
scented  bloodhound  and  the  far-sighted 
vulture.  And  the  increase  of  complexity 
may  be  appreciated  by  comparing  the  mo- 
tions respectively  gone  through  by  the 
polyp  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  the  dog  and 
vulture  on  the  other,  while  securing  and 
disposing  of  their  prey.  The  more  specific 
and  accurate,  the  more  complex  and  exten- 
sive, is  the  response  to  environing  relations, 
the  higher  and  richer,  we  say,  is  the  life. 


IX 


How  the  Evolution  of  Senses  expands  the 
World 

HE  whole  progression  of  life  upon 
the  globe,  in  so  far  as  it  has  been 
achieved  through  natural  selection, 
has  consisted  in  the  preservation  and  the 
propagation  of  those  living  creatures  in 
whom  the  adjustment  of  inner  relations  to 
outer  relations  is  most  successful.  This  is 
only  a  more  detailed  and  descriptive  way  of 
saying  that  natural  selection  is  equivalent 
to  survival  of  the  fittest.  The  shapes  of 
animals,  as  well  as  their  capacities,  have 
been  evolved  through  almost  infinitely  slow 
increments  of  adjustment  upon  adjustment. 
In  this  way,  for  instance,  has  been  evolved 
the  vertebrate  skeleton,  through  a  process 
of  which  Spencer's  wonderful  analysis  is 
as  thrilling  as  a  poem.  Or  consider  the 


Reality  of  Religion  183 

development  of  the  special  organs  of  sense. 
Among  the  most  startling  disclosures  of 
embryology  are  those  which  relate  to  this 
subject.  The  most  perfect  organs  of  touch 
are  the  vibrissce  or  whiskers  of  the  cat, 
which  act  as  long  levers  in  communicating 
impulses  to  the  nerve-fibres  that  terminate 
in  clusters  about  the  dermal  sacs  in  which 
they  are  inserted.  These  cat-whiskers  are 
merely  specialized  forms  of  such  hairs  as 
those  which  cover  the  bodies  of  most  mam- 
mals, and  which  remain  in  evanescent  shape 
upon  the  human  skin  imbedded  in  minute 
sacs.  Now  in  their  origin  the  eye  and  ear 
are  identical  with  vibrissce.  In  the  early 
stages  of  vertebrate  life,  while  the  differen- 
tiations of  dermal  tissue  went  mostly  to 
the  production  of  hairs  or  feathers  or 
scales,  sundry  special  differentiations  went 
to  the  production  of  ears  and  eyes.  Em- 
bryology shows  that  in  mammals  the  bulb 
of  the  eye  and  the  auditory  chamber  are  ex- 
tremely metamorphosed  hair-sacs,  the  crys- 
talline lens  is  a  differentiated  hair,  and  the 


184  Reality  of  Religion 

aqueous  and  vitreous  humours  are  liquefied 
dermal  tissue !  The  implication  of  these 
wonderful  facts  is  that  sight  and  hearing 
were  slowly  differentiated  from  the  sense 
of  touch.  One  can  seem  to  discern  how  in 
the  history  of  the  eye  there  was  at  first  a 
concentration  of  pigment  grains  in  a  par- 
ticular dermal  sac,  making  that  spot  excep- 
tionally sensitive  to  light;  then  came  by 
slow  degrees  the  heightened  translucence, 
the  convexity  of  surface,  the  refracting 
humours,  and  the  multiplication  of  nerve- 
vesicles  arranging  themselves  as  retinal 
rods.  And  what  was  the  result  of  all  this 
for  the  creature  in  whom  organs  of  vision 
were  thus  developed  ?  There  was  an  im- 
mense extension  of  the  range,  complexity, 
and  definiteness  of  the  adjustment  of  inner 
relations  to  outer  relations  ;  in  other  words, 
there  was  an  immense  increase  of  life. 
There  came  into  existence,  moreover,  for 
those  with  eyes  to  see  it,  a  mighty  visible 
world  that  for  sightless  creatures  had  been 
virtually  non-existent. 


Reality  of  Religion  185 

With  the  further  progress  of  organic  life, 
the  high  development  of  the  senses  was 
attended  or  followed  by  increase  of  brain 
development  and  the  correlative  intelli- 
gence, immeasurably  enlarging  the  scope 
of  the  correspondences  between  the  living 
creature  and  the  outer  world.  In  the  case 
of  Man,  the  adjustments  by  which  we  meet 
the  exigencies  of  life  from  day  to  day  are 
largely  psychical,  achieved  by  the  aid  of 
ideal  representations  of  environing  circum- 
stances. Our  actions  are  guided  by  our 
theory  of  the  situation,  and  it  needs  no 
illustration  to  show  us  that  a  true  theory  is 
an  adjustment  of  one's  ideas  to  the  external 
facts,  and  that  such  adjustments  are  helps 
to  successful  living.  The  whole  worth  of 
education  is  directed  toward  cultivating  the 
capacity  of  framing  associations  of  ideas 
that  conform  to  objective  facts.  It  is  thus 
that  life  is  guided. 


X 


Nature's  Eternal  Lesson  is  the  Everlasting 
Reality  of  Religion 

O  as  we  look  back  over  the  marvel- 
lous life-history  of  our  planet,  even 
from  the  dull  time  when  there  was 
no  life  more  exalted  than  that  of  conferva 
scum  on  the  surface  of  a  pool,  through 
ages  innumerable  until  the  present  time 
when  Man  is  learning  how  to  decipher  Na- 
ture's secrets,  we  look  back  over  an  infi- 
nitely slow  series  of  minute  adjustments, 
gradually  and  laboriously  increasing  the 
points  of  contact  between  the  inner  Life 
and  the  World  environing.  Step  by  step 
in  the  upward  advance  toward  Humanity 
the  environment  has  enlarged.  The  world 
of  the  fresh-water  alga  was  its  tiny  pool 
during  its  brief  term  of  existence ;  the 
world  of  civilized  man  comprehends  the 


Reality  of  Religion  i8j 

stellar  universe  during  countless  aeons  of 
time.  Every  stage  of  enlargement  has  had 
reference  to  actual  existences  outside.  The 
eye  was  developed  in  response  to  the  out- 
ward existence  of  radiant  light,  the  ear  in 
response  to  the  outward  existence  of  acous- 
tic vibrations,  the  mother's  love  came  in 
response  to  the  infant's  needs,  fidelity  and 
honour  were  slowly  developed  as  the  nas- 
cent social  life  required  them  ;  everywhere 
the  internal  adjustment  has  been  brought 
about  so  as  to  harmonize  with  some  actually 
existing  external  fact.  Such  has  been  Na- 
ture's method,  such  is  the  deepest  law  of 
life  that  science  has  been  able  to  detect. 

Now  there  was  a  critical  moment  in  the 
history  of  our  planet,  when  love  was  begin- 
ning to  play  a  part  hitherto  unknown,  when 
notions  of  right  and  wrong  were  germinat- 
ing in  the  nascent  Human  Soul,  when  the 
family  was  coming  into  existence,  %  when 
social  ties  were  beginning  to  be  knit,  when 
winged  words  first  took  their  flight  through 
the  air.  It  was  the  moment  when  the  pro- 


1 88  Reality  of  Religion 

cess  of  evolution  was  being  shifted  to  a 
higher  plane,  when  civilization  was  to  be 
superadded  to  organic  evolution,  when  the 
last  and  highest  of  creatures  was  coming 
upon  the  scene,  when  the  dramatic  purpose 
of  creation  was  approaching  fulfilment. 
At  that  critical  moment  we  see  the  nascent 
Human  Soul  vaguely  reaching  forth  toward 
something  akin  to  itself  not  in  the  realm 
of  fleeting  phenomena  but  in  the  Eternal 
Presence  beyond.  An  internal  adjustment 
of  ideas  was  achieved  in  correspondence 
with  an  Unseen  World.  That  the  ideas 
were  very  crude  and  childlike,  that  they 
were  put  together  with  all  manner  of  gro- 
tesqueness,  is  what  might  be  expected. 
The  cardinal  fact  is  that  the  crude  child- 
like mind  was  groping  to  put  itself  into 
relation  with  an  ethical  world  not  visible  to 
the  senses.  And  one  aspect  of  this  fact, 
not  to,  be  lightly  passed  over,  is  the  fact 
that  Religion,  thus  ushered  upon  the  scene 
coeval  with  the  birth  of  Humanity,  has 
played  such  a  dominant  part  in  the  subse- 


Reality  of  Religion  189 

quent  evolution  of  human  society  that  what 
history  would  be  without  it  is  quite  beyond 
imagination.  As  to  the  dimensions  of  this 
cardinal  fact  there  can  thus  be  no  question. 
None  can  deny  that  it  is  the  largest  and 
most  ubiquitous  fact  connected  with  the 
existence  of  mankind  upon  the  earth. 

Now  if  the  relation  thus  established  in 
the  morning  twilight  of  Man's  existence 
between  the  Human  Soul  and  a  world  in- 
visible and  immaterial  is  a  relation  of  which 
only  the  subjective  term  is  real  and  the  ob- 
jective term  is  non-existent,  then,  I  say,  it 
is  something  utterly  without  precedent  in 
the  whole  history  of  creation.  All  the  ana- 
logies of  Evolution,  so  far  as  we  have  yet 
been  able  to  decipher  it,  are  overwhelming 
against  any  such  supposition.  To  suppose 
that  during  countless  ages,  from  the  sea- 
weed up  to  Man,  the  progress  of  life  was 
achieved  through  adjustments  to  external 
realities,  but  that  then  the  method  was  all 
at  once  changed  and  throughout  a  vast 
province  of  evolution  the  end  was  secured 


/po  Reality  of  Religion 

through  adjustments  to  external  non-reali- 
ties, is  to  do  sheer  violence  to  logic  and  to 
common  sense.  Or,  to  vary  the  form  of 
statement,  since  every  adjustment  whereby 
any  creature  sustains  life  may  be  called  a 
true  step,  and  every  maladjustment  whereby 
life  is  wrecked  may  be  called  a  false  step ; 
if  we  are  asked  to  believe  that  Nature,  after 
having  throughout  the  whole  round  of  her 
inferior  products  achieved  results  through 
the  accumulation  of  all  true  steps  and  piti- 
less rejection  of  all  false  steps,  suddenly 
changed  her  method  and  in  the  case  of 
her  highest  product  began  achieving  results 
through  the  accumulation  of  false  steps  ;  I 
say  we  are  entitled  to  resent  such  a  sug- 
gestion as  an  insult  to  our  understandings. 
All  the  analogies  of  Nature  fairly  shout 
against  the  assumption  of  such  a  breach  of 
continuity  between  the  evolution  of  Man 
and  all  previous  evolution.  So  far  as  our 
knowledge  of  Nature  goes  the  whole  mo- 
mentum of  it  carries  us  onward  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  Unseen  World,  as  the 


Reality  of  Religion  igi 

objective  term  in  a  relation  of  fundamental 
importance  that  has  coexisted  with  the 
whole  career  of  Mankind,  has  a  real  exist- 
ence ;  and  it  is  but  following  out  the  ana- 
logy to  regard  that  Unseen  World  as  the 
theatre  where  the  ethical  process  is  destined 
to  reach  its  full  consummation.  The  les- 
son of  evolution  is  that  through  all  these 
weary  ages  the  Human  Soul  has  not  been 
cherishing  in  Religion  a  delusive  phantom, 
but  in  spite  of  seemingly  endless  groping 
and  stumbling  it  has  been  rising  to  the 
recognition  of  its  essential  kinship  with  the 
ever-living  God.  Of  all  the  implications 
of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  with  regard  to 
Man,  I  believe  the  veiy  deepest  and  strong- 
est to  be  that  which  asserts  the  Everlasting 
Reality  of  Religion. 

So  far  as  I  am  aware,  the  foregoing  argu- 
ment is  here  advanced  for  the  first  time.  It 
does  not  pretend  to  meet  the  requirements 
of  scientific  demonstration.  One  must  not 
look  for  scientific  demonstration  in  pro- 
blems that  contain  so  many  factors  tran- 


Reality  of  Religion 

scending  our  direct  experience.  But  as  an 
appeal  to  our  common  sense,  the  argument 
here  brought  forward  surely  has  tremen- 
dous weight.  It  seems  to  me  far  more 
convincing  than  any  chain  of  subtle  meta- 
physical reasoning  can  ever  be ;  for  such 
chains,  however,  invincible  in  appearance, 
are  no  stronger  than  the  weakest  of  their 
links,  and  in  metaphysics  one  is  always  un- 
easily suspecting  some  undetected  flaw. 
My  argument  represents  the  impression 
that  is  irresistibly  forced  upon  one  by  a 
broad  general  familiarity  with  Nature's  pro- 
cesses and  methods  ;  it  therefore  belongs 
to  the  class  of  arguments  that  survive. 

Observe,  too,  that  it  is  far  from  being  a 
modified  repetition  of  the  old  argument 
that  beliefs  universally  accepted  must  be 
true.  Upon  the  view  here  presented,  every 
specific  opinion  ever  entertained  by  man 
respecting  religious  things  may  be  wrong, 
and  in  all  probability  is  exceedingly  crude, 
and  yet  the  Everlasting  Reality  of  Reli- 
gion, in  its  three  indispensable  elements  as 


Reality  of  Religion  193 

here  set  forth,  remains  unassailable.  Our 
common-sense  argument  puts  the  scientific 
presumption  entirely  and  decisively  on  the 
side  of  religion  and  against  all  atheistic  and 
materialistic  explanations  of  the  universe. 
It  establishes  harmony  between  our  highest 
knowledge  and  our  highest  aspirations  by 
showing  that  the  latter  no  less  than  the 
former  are  a  normal  result  of  the  universal 
cosmic  process.  It  has  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  advance  of  scientific  discovery,  for 
as  these  things  come  to  be  better  under- 
stood, it  is  going  to  be  realized  that  the 
days  of  the  antagonism  between  Science 
and  Religion  must  by  and  by  come  to  an 
end.  That  antagonism  has  been  chiefly 
due  to  the  fact  that  religious  ideas  were 
until  lately  allied  with  the  doctrine  of  spe- 
cial creations.  They  have  therefore  needed 
to  be  remodelled  and  considered  from  new 
points  of  view.  But  we  have  at  length 
reached  a  stage  where  it  is  becoming  daily 
more  and  more  apparent  that  with  the 
deeper  study  of  Nature  the  old  strife  be- 


/ 94  Reality  of  Religion 

tween  faith  and  knowledge  is  drawing  to  a 
close ;  and  disentangled  at  last  from  that 
ancient  slough  of  despond  the  Human 
Mind  will  breathe  a  freer  air  and  enjoy  a 
vastly  extended  horizon. 


L'ENVOI 


Yesterday,  when  weary  with  writing,  and  my  mind  quite 
dusty  with  considering  these  atoms,  I  was  called  to  supper,  and 
a  salad  I  had  asked  for  was  set  before  me.  "  It  seems,  then," 
said  I  aloud,  "  that  if  pewter  dishes,  leaves  of  lettuce,  grains  of 
salt,  drops  of  vinegar  and  oil,  and  slices  of  eggs,  had  been  float- 
ing about  in  the  air  from  all  eternity,  it  might  at  last  happen 
by  chance  that  there  would  come  a  salad."  "  Yes,"  says  my 
wife,  "  but  not  so  nice  and  well-dressed  as  this  of  mine  is ! "  — 
KEPLER,  afud  Tait  and  Stewart,  Paradoxical  Philosophy. 


BLECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 
BY  H.  O.   HOUGHTON  AND  CO. 


fiitaegfltie 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


THE  WRITINGS  OF 
JOHN  FISKE. 


THE   DISCOVERY   OF   AMERICA. 

With  some  Account  of  Ancient  America  and  the  Spanish 

Conquest.      With  a  Steel  Portrait  of  Mr.  Fiske,  many 

Maps,  Facsimiles,  etc.   2  vols.  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

Those  who  care  for  geography  and    for  primitive   culture  will 

doubtless  find  this  "  Discovery  of  America,"  as  we  have  found  it, 

one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  instructive  books  on  both  those  topics 

that  have  appeared  in  a  good  many  years.  .  .  .  The  book  brings 

together  a  great  deal  of  information   hitherto  accessible   only  in 

special  treatises,  and  elucidates  with  care  and  judgment  some  of  the 

most  perplexing  problems  in  the  history  of  discovery.  —  The  Speaker 

(London). 

OLD   VIRGINIA   AND   HER 
NEIGHBOURS. 

With  6  Maps.     2  vols.  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

Mr.  Fiske's  "  Old  Virginia  and  Her  Neighbours  "  adds  another 
to  those  valuable  and  delightful  studies  of  our  early  history  which 
are  fast  approaching  the  completeness  and  adequacy  of  a  compre- 
hensive history  of  the  beginnings  of  the  American  people.  History 
has  rarely  been  invested  with  such  interest  and  charm  as  in  these 
volumes.  —  Tlie  Outlook  (New  York.) 

THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  NEW 
ENGLAND ; 

Or,  The  Puritan  Theocracy  in  its  Relations  to  Civil  and 
Religious  Liberty.  Crown  8vo,  $2.00.  Illustrated 
Edition.  Containing  Portraits,  Maps,  Facsimiles,  Con- 
temporary Views,  Prints,  and  other  Historic  Material. 
8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

Having  in  the  first  chapters  strikingly  and  convincingly  shown 
that  New  England's  history  was  the  birth  of  centuries  of  travail, 
and  having  prepared  his  readers  to  estimate  at  their  true  importance 
the  events  of  our  early  colonial  life,  Mr.  Fiske  is  ready  to  take  up 
his  task  as  the  historian  of  the  New  England  of  the  Puritans.  .  .  . 
The  last  chapters  give  a  broad  and  fair  account  of  the  history  of  the 
time,  but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  in  his  choice  of  facts  the  author  has 
exercised  a  large  power  of  selection,  a  selection  which  we  may  note 
is  wonderful  in  its  unfailing  accuracy  of  estimate.  As  he  is  busy 
with  the  progress  toward  civil  and  religious  liberty  which  culminated 
in  the  Revolution,  his  facts  are  chosen  to  illustrate  that  progress.  — 
Boston  Daily  A  dvertiser. 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

With  Plans  of  Battles,  and  a  Steel  Portrait  of  Washing- 
ton. 2  vols.  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00.  Illustrated 
Edition.  Containing  about  joo  Illustrations.  2  vols. 
8vo,  gilt  top,  $8.00. 

The  reader  may  turn  to  these  volumes  with  full  assurance  of  faith 
for  a  fresh  rehearsal  of  the  old  facts,  which  no  time  can  stale,  and  for 
new  views  of  those  old  facts,  according  to  the  larger  framework  of 
ideas  in  which  they  can  now  be  set  by  the  master  of  a  captivating  style 
and  an  expert  in  historical  philosophy.  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

In  Riverside  Library  for  Young  People.     With  Maps. 

idmo,  7J"  cents. 

John  Fiske's  "  War  of  Independence  "  is  a  miracle.  ...  A  book 
brilliant  and  effective  beyond  measure.  ...  It  is  a  statement  that 
every  child  can  comprehend,  but  that  only  a  man  of  consummate 
genius  could  have  written.  —  MRS.  CAROLINE  H.  DALL,  in  the 
Sf>ringjield  Republican. 

THE  CRITICAL  PERIOD  OF 
AMERICAN  HISTORY,   1783-1789. 

With  Map,  Notes,  etc.     Crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $2.00.     Illus- 
trated Edition.      Containing  abottt  170  Illustrations. 
8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 
The  author  combines  in  an  unusual  degree  the  impartiality  of  the 

trained  scholar  with  the  fervor  of  the  interested  narrator.  .  .  .  The 

volume  should  be  in  every  library  in  the  land.  —  The  Congregatinn- 

alist  (Boston). 

An  admirable  book.  .  .  .  Mr.  Fiske  has  a  great  talent  for  making 

history  interesting  to  the  general  reader.  —  New  York  Times. 

A    HISTORY   OF    THE    UNITED 
STATES   FOR   SCHOOLS. 

With  Topical  Analysis,  Suggestive  Questions,  and  Direc- 
tions for  Teachers,  by  F.  A.  Hill,  and  Illustrations 
and  Maps.  Crown  8vo,  $7.00,  net. 

It  is  doubtful  if  Mr.  Fiske  has  done  anything  better  for  his  gen- 
eration than  the  preparation  of  this  text-book,  which  combines  in  a 
rare  degree  accuracy,  intelligent  condensation,  historical  discrimina- 
tion, and  an  attractive  style.  —  The  Outlook  (New  York). 

CIVIL   GOVERNMENT   IN   THE 
UNITED   STATES. 

Considered  with  some  Reference  to  its  Origins.  With 
Questions  on  the  Text  by  Frank  A.  Hill,  and  Biblio- 
graphical Notes  by  Mr.  Fiskc.  Crown  8vo,  $1.00,  net. 


It  is  most  admirable,  alike  in  plan  and  execution,  and  will  do  a 
vast  amount  of  good  in  teaching  our  people  the  principles  and  forms 
of  our  civil  institutions.  —  MOSES  COIT  TYLER,  Professor  of  Amer- 
ican Constitutional  History  and  Law,  Cornell  University. 

OUTLINES   OF  COSMIC 
PHILOSOPHY. 

Based  on  the  Doctrine  of  Evolution,  with  Criticisms  on 
the  Positive  Philosophy.     In  two  volumes.    8vo,  $6.00. 

You  must  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  the  very  great  interest  with 
which  I  have  at  last  slowly  read  the  whole  of  your  work.  ...  I 
never  in  my  life  read  so  lucid  an  expositor  (and  therefore  thinker)  as 
you  are ;  and  I  think  that  I  understand  nearly  the  whole,  though 
perhaps  less  clearly  about  cosmic  theism  and  causation  than  other 
parts. —CHARLES  DARWIN." 

This  work  of  Mr.  Fiske's  may  be  not  unfairly  designated  the  most 
important  contribution  yet  made  by  America  to  philosophical  litera- 
ture. —  The  Academy  (London). 

DARWINISM,   AND    OTHER 
ESSAYS. 

Crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $2.00. 

If  ever  there  was  a  spirit  thoroughly  invigorated  by  the  "  joy  of 
right  understanding,"  it  is  that  of  the  author  of  these  pieces.  .  .  . 
No  less  confident  and  serene  than  his  acceptance  of  the  utmost 
logical  results  of  recent  scientific  discovery  is  Mr.  Fiske's  assurance 
that  the  foundations  of  spiritual  truths,  so  called,  cannot  possibly  be 
shaken  thereby.  —  The  Atlantic  Monthly  (Boston). 

THE   UNSEEN   WORLD, 

And  Other  Essays.  Crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $2.00. 
To  each  study  the  writer  seems  to  have  brought,  besides  an  ex- 
cellent quality  of  discriminating  judgment,  full  and  fresh  special 
knowledge,  that  enables  him  to  supply  much  information  on  the  sub- 
ject, whatever  it  may  be,  that  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  volume  he  is 
noticing.  — Boston  Advertiser. 

EXCURSIONS    OF    AN 
EVOLUTIONIST. 

Crmun  8vo,  gilt  top,  $2.00. 

Among  our  thoughtful  essayists  there  are  none  more  brilliant  than 
Mr.  John  Fiske.  His  pure  style  suits  his  clear  thought.  He  does 
not  write  unless  he  has  something  to  say ;  and  when  he  does  write, 
he  shows  not  only  that  he  has  thoroughly  acquainted  himself  with 
the  subject,  but  that  he  has  to  a  rare  degree  the  art  of  so  massing 
his  matter  as  to  bring  out  the  true  value  of  the  leading  points  in 
artistic  relief.  .  .  .  The  same  qualities  appear  to  good  advantage  in 
his  new  volume,  which  contains  his  later  essays  on  his  favorite  sub- 
ject of  evolution.  —  The  Nation  (New  York). 


MYTHS  AND  MYTH-MAKERS. 

Old  Tales  and  Superstitions  interpreted  by  Comparative 
Mythology.     Crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $2.00. 

Mr.  Fiske  has  given  us  a  book  which  is  at  once  sensible  and  at- 
tractive, on  a  subject  about  which  much  is  written  that  is  crotchety 
or  tedious.  — W.  R.  S.  RALSTON,  in  the  Atkeneettm  (London). 

THE   DESTINY   OF   MAN, 

Viewed  in  the  Light  of  his  Origin,     idtno,  gilt  top,  $f.oo. 

One  is  charmed  by  the  directness  and  clearness  of  his  style,  his 
simple  and  pure  English,  and  his  evident  knowledge  of  his  subject. 
.  .  .  Of  one  thing  we  maybe  sure:  that  none  are  leading  us  more 
surely  or  rapidly  to  the  full  truth  than  men  like  the  author  of  this 
little  book,  who  reverently  study  the  works  of  God  for  the  lessons 
which  he  would  teach  his  children.  —  Christian  Union  (New  York). 

THE   IDEA   OF   GOD, 

As  Affected  by  Modern  Knowledge.     i6mo,  gilt  top,  $1.00. 

The  vigor,  the  earnestness,  the  honesty,  and  the  freedom  from 
cant  and  subtlety  in  his  writings  are  exceedingly  refreshing.  He 
is  a  scholar,  a  critic,  and  a  thinker  of  the  first  order.  —  Christian 
Register  (Boston). 

THROUGH   NATURE   TO  GOD. 

idmo,  gilt  top,  %i.oo. 

CONTENTS  :  The  Mystery  of  Evil :  The  Cosmic  Roots 
of  Love  and  Self-Sacrifice  ;  The  Everlasting  Reality  of 
Religion. 


tde 


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on  receipt  of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  CO., 

4.  Park  Street,  Boston  ;  n  East  ifth  Street,  ATew  York. 


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